Heightened Tensions
by Kasumi9
Summary: CHAPTER 24 UP. Between Buttercup's sudden depression, Blossom's secret involvement with Him, and Bubbles's elusive stalker, life has never been so crazy. Sequel to Inner Turmoil.
1. Introduction

Legal Stuff: Right, I don't own any of these characters. The God Craig McCracken and all those people at Cartoon Network own PPG and everything related to it. All bow to them for creating the greatest cartoon on the planet, and one that still is no matter what all you naysayers think.  
  
Author's Note: You may want to have read my first fic, Inner Turmoil in order to fully understand what's going on. You could probably get by without it, but I do make references to the story here and there.  
  
Anyway, on with the story.  
  
Heightened Tensions- Intro  
  
They all agreed that September had come much to quickly.  
  
It had seemed like only yesterday when summer holidays began, but in no time the back to school signs were up and the sales for school supplies were in full swing. It was the dullest time of the year, and already children were showing the grumbling signs of adolescent disappointment. Nobody was eager to go back to school, especially the girls in the Utonium household.  
  
It was not the usual dreading of homework and tests, or school projects that curbed their excitement this year. It was something else that kept their spirits down the lowest it had ever been. To say the least they felt hurried, and felt that they'd been cheated out of a good school-free two months.  
  
There was definitely a reason for that no doubt, a reason that not a lot of people get to experience. A good portion of their final weeks of summer had been spent unpacking and putting their house back in satisfactory order. They had just moved back into Townsville from their five-year absence of the small city, and in the final days of August were just starting to feel settled. August had been a busy month, but that didn't automatically mean that July had been so full of fun and games either.  
  
In fact, July had been one of the worst months of the girls' lives. That was the month when they'd finally learned about the truth of their origins, and that for the past twelve years their father, the professor, had been lying to them about where they'd really come from. They'd learned that they'd been the results of a greedy corporation's experiments with Chemical X, and that the professor, had in fact been the head of the project. A lab accident had caused their premature awakening, and the professor, guilty and feeling the heavy responsibility on his shoulders, had smuggled the three of them out and had decided to raise them on his own, in Townsville.  
  
Just learning about the truth hadn't exactly been enough. The girls had actually had a confrontation with the company's secret division, White Hazard, and it hadn't turned out pretty. At first they had thought it was just the corporation wanting to reclaim them, when in fact it had turned out to be much worse.  
  
On one fateful night at the end of July, the girls had ventured into the enemy complex in order to save their father who had been kidnapped form their home during their absence. They had ended up getting separated, and in that separation learned the full truth of what was going on. It was not corporate greed, it was a demonic scheme that ran deeper than just wanting the girls back.  
  
Him, the satanic demon that had plagued the girls for most of their young lives with his circuitous plans and ridiculous mind games, had decided to show his face and revel the full truth of the situation. It was in fact he who wanted the girls back, and wanted to use their extraordinary super powers to aid him in his quest to take over the entire mortal world. He was willing to manipulate their minds in order to get what he wanted, and, even willing to kill for it.  
  
That was where Blossom came in, arguably known as possibly the smartest and most emotionally stable of the three girls. She knew better than to fall for Him's mind games, and he knew it to. She would not be easily swayed, and had the battle scars to prove that Him was also aware of this fact. This scar would be a constant reminder of the horrible things she had to face, and may even prove to be more in the future.  
  
Now, something else is brewing along with the family along with the dread of the beginning of the school year. There is tension mounting that has never been seen before, and it is just now starting to rear its ugly head in the face of their once peaceful existence. As they just get settled in after moving, something else begins to emerge; a jealousy that has been festering for years, and one that cannot be so easily remedied. 


	2. Chapter One

Heightened Tensions- Chapter One  
  
"Girls! You'll never guess the good news!"  
  
Professor Utonium burst into the kitchen one morning in late August, where his three daughters were already sitting around the kitchen table. The three of them were deeply engrossed in their separate activities, and barely looked up when their father came into the room.  
  
"Hmm?" one of the girls, Blossom, mumbled as she lightly turned a page in the book she was reading. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration, and her lips set in a light pout as she read the jumbled words on the pages. Her red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail as pieces of her grown out bangs hung over her eyes. She twirled a strand of her amber locks as the other hand sat next to the book on the table, fully prepared to continue the learning by turning the page.  
  
"You will never believe this. oh- I was so excited when I found out!" the professor said as he swooped into the room, his dark eyes glittering with excitement that possible only he could appreciate. He took a seat across from Blossom at the table, and folded his hands before him, shooting eager glances between the three girls.  
  
"Oh, what is it professor?" one of the other girls, Bubbles, mumbled as she toyed with a spoon in her hands. Her elbow was propped on the table, her head resting on her hand, and she was staring straight into the wall. Her clear blues eyes were dull and bored, and her blonde hair was loose on her shoulders.  
  
"Well. I was talking to your principal on the phone just a few minutes ago."  
  
"Oh god. please don't tell me." the last sister, Buttercup groaned as she shifted the position of her head on top of the table. She was leaning forward in her chair, her head resting on the table as if she was sleeping, her black hair covering the table top like a sheet of ebony cloth. At the sound of her father's words, her flashing green eyes snapped open in alarm, but she never sat up otherwise.  
  
"I was just offered a position at you school! I'll be teaching biology!" he exclaimed, his face all smiles.  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"Oh my gosh! That's so cool!!"  
  
"Congratulations professor."  
  
"And it looks like I'll be teaching you three as well. Aren't you excited to be in my class. Of course that means. no special treatment." he blabbered on, running a hand through his thick black hair which was just starting to gray in some places.  
  
This was of course a huge development in the family. In their last residence, the professor had in fact had a stable job at the local university where they'd lived. But, he'd lost that job on account of their moving back to Townsville, and for the last month he'd been unemployed. He had been looking for a job; his eye mainly on freelance work, but their school principal of Pokey Oaks High School had gotten wind that he was looking for a new employment when they'd come in for orientation. Excited by the professor's past experience (not including the one nobody knew about, the one that involved the girls), he'd briefly mentioned seeing what he could do. Apparently the deal had been sealed officially, and whether or not the new development would be horrifying to the girls remained to be seen. Naturally, the three of them were in fact hesitant, but since he didn't have a history of embarrassing them too bad, they didn't feel too apprehensive. Except, Buttercup did have a few problems with it of her own.  
  
"This isn't possible!" Buttercup said, leaping up from the table, her black hair standing on end. "You'll embarrass us! I don't want to start my last year of high school like this!" She cried, her voice panicked, but there was some degree of humor in her tone.  
  
"Buttercup, please tell me there's some sort of neural mechanism working before you open your mouth," Blossom said indignantly, closing the book to look at her sister with disapproval. Her rose eyes sparkled maliciously as she moved the book away from her, waiting for her sister's next outburst.  
  
"This is soooo cool! Ooooh my goodness! I'm so happy!" Bubbles exclaimed, exploding into her normal demeanor of giggles. She leapt up and planted a huge kiss on her father's cheek before smothering him in a huge hug.  
  
"Yes, this is definitely good news professor. We are happy, for you-"  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"-Really."  
  
"Don't pinch me!" Buttercup cried, falling back onto the chair. She looked at her red-haired sister furiously, her face growing warm with anger.  
  
"It's okay, girls. I know how it is for you teenagers and parents. we just aren't cool enough, I know."  
  
"That's not true!" Bubbles squealed as if what the professor had just said was utter blasphemy. "Buttercup is being a doo doo head!"  
  
"Geez, did you forget to grow up!?"  
  
And as the banter continued Blossom stood from the table and looked at her father, trying her hardest to ignore the feud that was going on around her. That was pretty much how every morning started. If it wasn't Bubbles and Buttercup fighting about the most irrelevant things, it was her and Buttercup screaming at each other about more personal issues. To her knowledge, she'd never had a fight with Bubbles, because she was always patient enough to handle her blonde sister's rather immature personality.  
  
But, Bubbles had in fact grown up the past few months. There was a different natural countenance on her face that had never been there before, at least it hadn't before the summer had started. She still childish at times, but those occasions were getting fewer and farther in between. It was as if the entire ordeal they'd been through over the summer had given her an entirely new outlook on life, which was understandable seeing as the type of situation they had gone through. She'd hardened, and there were certain times were she'd actually become mean to put it mildly. Buttercup no longer always won their arguments, which had usually happened by default, ending with Bubbles scampering away in tears. Now, a lot of their arguments ended with a draw, which was surprising when taking into account their history. Something in what had happened had changed her, and in fact, it had done the same damage to the rest of them as well.  
  
Buttercup had changed the least out of the three of them. Completely outside of the point, she'd started growing her hair out to where it fell just past her shoulders. Her sense of fashion had changed just slightly as well. She still wore the same unconventional clothing as before, but it just didn't seem as extreme, and occasionally she actually made an effort to look nice.  
  
Her attitude and stand-offishness had stayed in tact, but the main difference in her was how she now treated the professor. She was now more affectionate towards him, which was unusual since she'd never been the lovey-dovey type of girl. They'd been in a huge fight over the entire summer, probably saying no more than twenty words to each other during a good portion of July, but that had changed after the terrible ordeal had ended. They had been in such a situation where she'd faced the awful truth that she needed him more than ever, and that she did owe quite a bit to him, considering everything he'd done to save them from the life they could've had.  
  
She was the same around Bubbles, always picking on her and encouraging fights with her, but she'd always done that. It was like fighting with her was out of habit, and her criticism was almost her way of looking out for her sister.  
  
Perhaps the way she acted around Blossom was the strangest of all. They still fought naturally, but most of the time she seemed to constantly have an eye on her red haired sister. It was like her attempt at protecting Blossom, constantly watching her as if she'd croak at the drop of a dime. Blossom could take care of herself, but her experience over the summer had turned Buttercup into something of a bodyguard. There were countless times where Blossom could swear that Buttercup was following her, and she tended to not let Blossom be alone for long periods of time. It had at one point gotten annoying, and she'd been close to telling her sister off for not allowing her any privacy, but then she remembered why Buttercup was doing it.  
  
Blossom had been near death, and Buttercup had carried her from the middle of nowhere all the way to the hospital all by herself. She also had given her own blood to save her life. Perhaps that was what was making her so protective, the fact that she'd almost lost her sister, and was now going to go to any lengths to make sure nothing ever happened to her again.  
  
Nothing would happen to her even if she'd wanted it to. Their job of saving the day had gotten awfully slow in the past few weeks. It was as if the criminals had finally given up, knowing that they didn't really stand a chance with the girls around. That was just as well, because they did have their own problems to deal with internally, what with the pressures of school and everything that did come along with growing up. Townsville was high on the list of crime-less cities in the U.S., all thanks to their mere presence within its boundaries.  
  
There was however still the problem of a certain simian genius that reared his ugly head from time to time. But these times had been different. Ever since escaping his imprisonment, Mojo had started robbing the most odd of places. The week before they'd returned, Mojo had raided a medical supply warehouse on the outskirts of town, and he'd taken at least twenty crates of medical supplies. A week after that he'd robbed an iron mill, and after that it was an armament on the air force base just over the mountains. The girls had never arrived in time to stop him, but they hung around long enough to get just a whiff of what he could possibly be up to. He was creating something, that part was obvious, but what on earth would he have needed the medical supplies for?  
  
That had been bugging them ever since, but instead of worrying about it, they were more focused on getting prepared for school, which they weren't quite finished doing yet.  
  
"No, you're so cool in fact, that I think you should help us finish our school shopping today," she said, pushing the book to rest beneath her arm. "Won't you come? I'd love you're help. er, we'd love your help," and she flashed him the brightest smile she could muster.  
  
The professor smiled at his red haired daughter and nodded his head.  
  
"I actually need to go and look for a new microwave. I haven't been able to find any good deals ever since someone-" he gave Buttercup a reproachful stare. "-Rammed their fist through the glass."  
  
"It overcooked my pizza pocket!" she whined in protest, waiting for more scolding, but none ever came. The professor had been incredibly angry at the time, but he'd gotten over it quickly. Ever since their last argument he'd learned to not stay angry for too long, because it could have drastic consequences on Buttercup. They'd learned that the hard way.  
  
"Allright, I'll go get my money," Blossom said, and she turned to leave the room, Bubbles following close behind her.  
  
Buttercup lingered, an expression of youthful defiance on her face. The professor just smiled at her and stood, grabbing his jacket from the coat hanger near the door. He moved over to her and ruffled her hair, gaining a smile as her emerald eyes brightened, and they moved together to leave.  
  
***  
  
Blossom and Bubbles walked alone through the aisles of the department store, glancing at the various sales as they passed. Blossom held the basket in her hand while Bubbles bounced along behind her, her good mood very obvious.  
  
"So, what exactly are you so happy about?" Blossom asked incredulously, moving over to a bin of protractors that were on sale for 35 cents apiece. She began ruffling through them, looking for a pink one, when her sister finally spoke.  
  
"Oh. I dunno, I guess it's sorta exciting that the we'll get to spend an hour of every day with the professor," she said brightly, fingering a silk flower that was part of an art display.  
  
"We get to do that anyway," Blossom said, raising an eyebrow. "We see him just about 24 hours a day in fact."  
  
Bubbles stared blankly for a few moments, but then she smiled.  
  
"I know. I guess it's just that. it's kinda nice having him around even more. you know," she said softly, her blue eyes clouding over. "It's a bit hard to explain. but it just seems like I need to have him closer now."  
  
Blossom looked at her, her otherwise condescending stare softening with understanding. She knew what her sister was getting at. It seemed as if they all had grown more attached to him the past few weeks. Maybe it was the harsh realities of growing up that made them resistive to leaving the nest, or maybe it was because they felt sorry for him. After all, he had gone through hell during the summer just as they had.  
  
"Ah. Well, I guess you're right. It might be kinda fun. I've never actually seen him in action before," Blossom said, swinging the handcart around to grasp her blonde sister's shoulder. "I think that about wraps it up. Why don't we go find Buttercup and the professor?" she said, rubbing her stomach uncomfortably, trying to be elusive about it.  
  
This of course didn't go unnoticed by Bubbles, whose gaze instantly snapped onto her sister. Blossom was looking straight forward, her focus clearly gone and her expression very grave.  
  
"Blossom?" Bubbles asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"  
  
Blossom suddenly snapped out of her stupor and looked at Bubbles. She smiled.  
  
"I'm fine. I guess I've just been thinking," she said, letting out a sigh. Something had in fact been bothering her, but she wasn't about to readily tell her sister for fear of scaring her.  
  
"You don't seem fine. You've been acting funny ever since we got here," Bubbles said, putting her own arm around Blossom as a gesture of comfort. ".Is it that scar?"  
  
"Huuh?" Blossom said, surprised. "Well. Not really. I was just thinking."  
  
"Is it bothering you? If it is you really need to tell us-"  
  
"No! It isn't." Blossom trailed off, letting her gaze wander over the racks of clothing they were passing. She didn't really want to say what she'd been thinking, but she didn't really have a choice.  
  
She turned her glance back to Bubbles, whose face looked very hard. It was the very same stare she'd acquired every since the accident. The mature, concerned face of a girl who's seen more than she should. It was a face Blossom couldn't deny.  
  
"I guess. it is bothering me a little."  
  
At that moment, Bubbles steered her over to a bright red bench that was against the wall next to the food court. They both sat down, and Bubbles turned to give her full attention.  
  
"Go on." she said softly, not wanting passerby's to hear. In Townsville they were a lot more noticeable, and if something was obviously wrong with them, the tabloids would be on them like wolves in a meat factory. This wasn't exactly a story they wanted to share, for humility's sake.  
  
Blossom took a deep breath, wondering where to begin.  
  
"I'm sure this must sound stupid. but it's like. whenever I look in the mirror, I can't help but. notice it, you know?"  
  
Bubbles nodded, urging her to continue.  
  
"It isn't just that. it's almost like my entire shell has changed since then. I see myself differently. I see myself as being. sick. damaged. not perfect."  
  
"Blossom, that's nonsense. Nobody is perfect. Not even us," Bubbles said, weaving her fingers into Blossom's hair affectionately.  
  
"I can't help but feel as if the scar is with me for a reason. I know it sounds stupid. because of course I would have a scar after an accident. like that," Blossom said quietly. "But, it seems like it should be important, because, I guess, considering who gave it to me."  
  
Bubbles nodded silently eyeing a couple strangers who were pointing at them excitedly from a good distance away.  
  
"You know, that if anything's wrong, if anything happens you need to tell us."  
  
"I know. I will," Blossom said quietly, looking up as she also noticed the people who were staring at them. She smiled a little, trying not to look upset. "I wonder what Him's doing now."  
  
Bubbles jumped just slightly at the mention of his name. This was the first time in a long while that Blossom had voluntarily brought Him up. It was as if the subject had become taboo for them, to painful to even speak of.  
  
"Well. I. don't know."  
  
"I wonder what his next plan is going to be. What ridiculous plot is he going to come up with just to tangle us up in his twisted web of evil?"  
  
"Blossom. I don't know if we should talk about this."  
  
"What's he going to do to try and kill us?"  
  
Bubbles went instantly silent. She stood and looked down at Blossom, her eyes wide with shock as to how blunt Blossom was acting. She was at a loss for words.  
  
"But we'll be waiting for him right?" Blossom smiled, a new wave of confidence passing over her eyes. She looked up at Bubbles, her face serious. "Let's go find them, okay?"  
  
Bubbles nodded, and took Blossom's hand as she stood. They were both silent as they walked to the music section, the place Buttercup would most likely be. It seemed as if Blossom's words had knocked Bubbles into shocked silence. She didn't know if she should feel uncomfortable, scared, or sad or what she should feel. Blossom was being so open about it, and so non-chalet. even though she'd almost died because of Him. It just made her very confused and put an uncomfortable, yet temporary, silence between them.  
  
They were walking together in that uncomfortable silence, when very suddenly, they both stopped in their tracks. They looked at each other simultaneously, both of them feeling the oncoming dread like a tidal wave. Something was coming, something big.  
  
Then all at once there was a rumbling explosion above them, followed by the chorus of screams from the shoppers around them. The girls stood their ground, prepared for anything to come through that crumbling hole in the ceiling.  
  
The crumbling pieces fell around them, but they stood, their faces up as they waited, bodies tense. There was a second explosion as they heard the rumbling whine of a turbine engine, followed by a blast of hot air that took their hair up in a billowing cyclone.  
  
With a lurching growl something dropped through the ceiling, landing in front of the two girls with animal agility. It was a machine, its powerful appendages stretching out as it recovered from its fall. It towered over them, a malevolent presence in itself, yet Blossom and Bubbles never even flinched. They looked up, smiles spreading across both of their faces.  
  
"Hello Mojo. I see you've been busy."  
  
And with the sound of metal working against metal they both found impossibly large guns shoved into their faces, an insane cackle rising above it all. 


	3. Chapter Two

Heightened Tensions- Chapter Two  
  
"MWA HA HA! I've got you now Powerpuff Girls!"  
  
Mojo sat perched atop his latest robot, swinging a remote control madly through the air with one hand, the other shaking an angry fist in their direction. The next second Mojo leapt off of the robot gracefully, and landed on top of a nearby shelf, his strange eyes glowing maliciously at the two girls below him. With one motion he pressed a button on his complicated remote and hung back to watch his work.  
  
With one fatal swoop the robot swiped with its left arm in an attempt to grab Bubbles, but she leapt out of harm's way just in time. People around them gave a cry of surprise as the fist of the machine tore a gaping hole in the ground, missing Bubbles by mere inches. Blossom bristled.  
  
"Godamnit Mojo, when will you learn?!" she cried angrily. Blossom leapt into the air as the other fist bore down on her just seconds after the first attack. It left another exploding crater in the ground, and people screamed in alarm. Somewhere from the sidelines, they heard,  
  
"Girls!"  
  
"It's okay Professor! Just stay away!" Blossom cried, waving him away hastily. She didn't want him, or anybody else to get hurt. This robot seemed much more dangerous than all of Mojo's other scrapped together tin cans. This one definitely seemed different, and she wasn't about to take any chances.  
  
"Blossom!" Bubbles cried, narrowly avoiding a blast from a laser cannon. A rack of magazines behind her exploded in a burst of singed paper and burning plastic. Mojo suddenly turned to Blossom, and once again began beating the air madly with his fist.  
  
"Looks like you're cornered! There's no way to escape! You're trapped! There is no possible way for you to leave! Therefore I have you caught! BWA HA HA HA!" and Mojo pressed another button, this time the robot responded by leaping straight for Blossom, its mechanical claws outstretched to grab her.  
  
"WAAGH!" Blossom cried in surprised, and she stumbled sideways just as the robot sped past her, nearly brushing against her with its metallic hide. It skidded to a halt just a few feet away, crumbling the floor in its wake.  
  
Holy Crap that thing is fast!  
  
Bubbles!  
  
The robot had suddenly turned its attention onto Bubbles, who was standing across the way, watching both Blossom and the robot with horrified eyes.  
  
"WHERE THE HELL IS BUTTERCUP!?" Blossom screamed, lifting herself from the ground where she'd stumbled. Bubbles just shook her head quickly, and then screamed as the robot suddenly kicked off the ground, Mojo's laughter following its movements like some sort of ethereal phantom.  
  
Its clawed arm was stretched out as if to grab Bubbled by her head. For some reason she didn't dare move, but only watched as the strange electric beast lunged for her, a wordless metallic shriek rising around her as it drew closer.  
  
"Bubbles! Don't just stand there!"  
  
And it was as if that suddenly got her moving. In a split second she flipped out of harm's way, her body twisting backwards to avoid the razored fist that tore into the floor just inches from her body.  
  
Instantly the machine recovered from its miss, and was suddenly on Bubbles again, who had no time to dodge. Its other arm swung around to grab her, but this time Bubbles managed to catch the strange arm in her powerful grasp. She tried to swing her body around, to throw the iron beast.but squeaked in alarm when she realized-  
  
- She couldn't move the blasted thing. It was just too heavy! How was that possible?!  
  
"Confused Powerpuff pipsqueak?! Perhaps I've finally done it!" Mojo was leaping up and down excitedly from the top of the shelves he was perched on, merchandise crashing to the floor.  
  
Bubbles looked up at the robot that loomed over her. She didn't know what to do.  
  
"Bubbles! For God's sake move!" Blossom's voice carried over the sound of rendering metal as the robot's other arm became what looked like a giant saw. As it revved up and began spinning, the high pitched whine making the crying people around them cower back in fear, Bubbles barely even moved.  
  
"Why isn't she moving- Augh, damnit!" and Blossom leapt up from her crouch and ran for the robot's back, leaping up at the last second to latch onto the monster's shoulders just as it was about to strike with the spinning blade. She bunched her fist and gritted her teeth, suspecting it was going to hurt like hell.  
  
And it did. As she plunged her fist into the neck of the beast she cried out as she felt her skin split and her hand become suddenly slick with something moist. Something about this robot was VERY different.  
  
The robot roared in protest as it suddenly started to fling its arms around wildly, Bubbles still attached. With a terrified wail Bubbles was thrown backwards, crashing into a clothing display that nearly exploded on impact.  
  
Blossom did all she could do to hold on, trying to bite the pain away in her stinging hand. She fished around for what she was looking for, found it, and held on with all her might. The robot was putting up quite a fight, thrashing and shrieking metallically as it tried to buck her off, but to no avail. She shut her eyes, knowing more pain would come, and yanked her fist out as hard as she could, pulling wires up and crying out at the same time.  
  
The cords split and there were gigantic sparks as the robot shuddered, angry black smoke billowing from the hole Blossom had punched through. Coughing and gasping as smoke filled her eyes, Blossom momentarily loosened the grip of her legs on the robot's shoulders, and in that brief interval she felt something hard and cold grab hold of her ankle.  
  
"No!"  
  
But it was too late. Mojo was shrieking madly, screaming orders at the robot as it peeled Blossom off of its back. She kicked her other leg and swung her fists wildly, trying hard to break free of its grasp. Her mind was had gone blank, partially distracted by the pain in her hand, and she couldn't think straight through her panic. She hollered angrily, managing to land a good kick on the robot's abdomen, but it had absolutely no effect.  
  
"Bubbles! Little help here!!! WHERE THE HELL IS BUTTERCUP!?"  
  
"No! Not that one you fool! The other one!" Mojo's screaming voice met Blossom's ears, and she froze. Oh shit-  
  
Before she even had time to comprehend what was happening Blossom was sailing through the air, having been flung away from Bubbles and the robot by its sheer strength and power. She came to a crashing halt in a bike rack, landing against about a dozen bikes and destroying them all with her passage. She finally landed, bent metal and torn plastic lying around her.  
  
She looked up, and screamed. The robot had Bubbles by her hair. She was putting up an amazing fight, trying to claw the robot's hand off of her scalp, but was clearly getting nowhere. She punched at its fist, gritting her teeth, tears of pain running down her cheeks as strangled growls of anger escaped her throat. Blossom had to do something.  
  
She stood shakily, ignoring her hand, a plan forming in her head even as she moved forward, the scene become larger as it loomed closer. Bubbles's face had gone a brilliant red as she continued her attempts to jerk away, but nothing seemed to be working.  
  
Blossom stopped a short distance away and shot one glance at the professor who curiously enough was still standing about ten feet away, completely horrified. He was staring at her hand, but she paid absolutely no attention to it. She nodded to him, heard Bubbles let out another angry cry of pain, and put her plan into action.  
  
She took a deep breath and let the air fill her lungs. This would work. It had to work.  
  
As soon as Blossom knew that her lungs were filled to capacity, she concentrated hard on what she wanted her body to do, and let the air escape from her throat. It came in a thin stream of frigid cold that slapped at the robot's legs and whipped around them like a merciless storm of dry ice. Very soon the machine found itself stuck completely to the ground, its legs now useless as the icy material glued them in place to the floor. It stopped jerking Bubbles around in its confusion, and Blossom saw this as the time to act.  
  
"Bubbles! Heat rays!"  
  
And without hesitation Bubbles did as she was told, her eyes narrowing and focusing on the robot's legs on front of her. Simultaneously two angry red beams blasted from her eyes and attacked the icy growth that was once the robot's legs. Instantly the ice began to melt, creating a growing puddle of boiled water that splashed to the floor.  
  
Come on. come on.  
  
Mojo was shrieking angrily, Bubbles was whimpering, then-  
  
The robot suddenly lost its balance and slipped on the slick floor, which was just what Blossom had wanted. But so did Bubbles, and she began to fall backwards, the two of them falling in opposite directions. The robot still had her by the hair, and didn't look as if it was planning on letting go. The force, the inertia. This was not going to end well.  
  
Damnit this wasn't supposed to happen! The bastard was supposed to let go!  
  
"No!" Blossom cried, but she stood there, time slowing to a crawl. Bubbles could lose her entire scalp-  
  
-Then as if out of nowhere there was an angry cry that rose up out of the shocked silence of the crowd. There was a flash of green, followed by screams from the crowd, and suddenly the robot jerked its hand back violently as a portion of its forearm crumbled under the force of an impossible hit. There was a horrendous scream of pain, an angry roar from above and a chorus of cries from the terrified onlookers, the professor among them.  
  
Bubbles fell, and so did the mechanical beast with a mighty crash. Mojo roared angrily, and leapt down from his perch and landed with a thunk on his precious creation.  
  
"Curse you Powerpuff Girls!" He said angrily, slapping buttons on his control pad. The jet engines from under the machine came back to life with a burst of heated air, and the robot began to rise. "Ah. but it isn't a total loss." Mojo said wickedly. his eyes catching the gnarled hand of his robot, which was clutching a small wad of soft blonde hair. "Till next time you insufferable brats!" And with a final string of delighted cackles Mojo and the robot disappeared.  
  
There was absolute silence in the vicinity after that. Blossom stood dumbfounded, staring up at the ceiling stupidly, not sure if she understood what had just happened. The people who had managed to stick around through their fear were all staring up too, their red faces flushed and sweaty. The only actual sound, while very faint, was Bubbles's continues whimpers and the professor's coos as he attempted to comfort her.  
  
"What the hell was that all about?" the voice of Buttercup floated up from the silence and caught Blossom's attention. She looked furiously at her green-eyed sister, not sure of where to begin. She was just standing there, so smug and pleased with herself, completely clueless as to how much trouble she was in.  
  
Buttercup was standing next to Bubbles. It was she who had broken the robot's grasp, but not good enough to save Bubbles some pain. She was on the floor, clutching her head and whimpering as the professor attempted to peel her hands away from her head.  
  
"Where. the HELL. WERE YOU?!!?!?" Blossom roared, stomping towards Buttercup, her hair and clothes an absolute mess. Buttercup stepped back, offended.  
  
"What do you mean-"  
  
"You're LATE!"  
  
"Oh. that. well. you see.. I was outside."  
  
"HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE NOTICED!?"  
  
"I had headphones on-"  
  
"AAAAAARRRRGH!" and Blossom suddenly lunged at Buttercup, throwing her to the floor angrily. They both spun around and cursed at each other for a good five minutes, while people watched them nervously.  
  
Bubbles sat up, rubbing her head limply. She shrieked when she saw Blossom and Buttercup duking it out on the department store floor, while newly arrived reporters were getting the whole thing on tape for the 10 o'clock news. They didn't even seem to notice.  
  
"I'M SICK OF YOUR IRRESPONSIBLE BEHAVIOR!"  
  
"Um. girls?" Bubbles tried to cut in, eying the cameras warily.  
  
"I'M SORRY!"  
  
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED!?"  
  
"Blossom." The professor was calling her, trying to get her to stop, because she hadn't noticed that she was bleeding all over Buttercup and everything else around her.  
  
They kept fighting, not really hitting each other, but something more along the lines of wrestling together. It was actually quite amusing, save for the blood.  
  
"Blossom stop! You're bleeding!"  
  
And finally they stopped, and Blossom rolled onto her knees staring down at her hand with horror. She was bleeding. Her hand was actually dripping with it.  
  
"Oh my god." she mumbled, shocked at seeing her own blood. It was her own blood, right there, coming out of her skin thickly. just as it had on that night when-  
  
"Hey!" Bubbles knocked Blossom out of her stupor. Blossom turned to her, her eyes very wide yet her expression very blank. Buttercup was lying on the ground next to them rubbing her shoulder where she'd slammed into the ground.  
  
"You may want to smile for the camera." Bubbles said, smiling sheepishly as she jerked her head upwards, motioning to the slew of reporters that had taken out their notepads. Blossom's head snapped up.  
  
"Wha-"  
  
And they all started asking questions about her hand at once. She was completely flabbergasted, and didn't know what to say. How did Mojo's robot hurt her? They'd never done that before.  
  
Shakily she stood, Bubbles helping support her, and they shielded their eyes as multiple flashes exploded in their faces. Blossom glanced over at Bubbles and scanned her scalp, but Bubbles shook her head to dismiss it entirely. She then motioned to the reporters again. Blossom looked at her anxiously.  
  
"You'd better do it," she whispered, and gave Blossom a light shove into the cameras. For a second Blossom was completely silent, staring at all the reporters who seemed to be leaning over her, all of their faces blank as they waited for her to say something.  
  
"Wow. that robot was pretty strong." she said stupidly, cradling her cut hand in an attempt to hide it. Satisfied, the reporters then started asking questions about the attack, which Blossom answered, her mannerism becoming more and more enthused as the questions went on.  
  
"Don't worry, I can help myself up!" Buttercup huffed angrily, picking herself up from the ground, glaring at the cameras from behind Blossom. There was some mention of ice-breath, but Buttercup barely heard it through her hazy red anger, and she only scowled more at Blossom's back as the talking continued. The people at home would probably see that, but Buttercup didn't really care too much.  
  
"Oh sorry Buttercup!" Bubbles laughed, extending her hand to help her sister. Buttercup slapped her away, irritated.  
  
She was just so perfect up there, so prissy and well spoken, speaking to the camera as if she was some sort of diplomat. Who gave her the right?!  
  
"Don't bother. Miss Goody-goody might need your help-"  
  
"Oh Buttercup, stop it, she's only giving the report-"  
  
"Yeah yeah. Why don't you guys take care of the publicity while I stick around here and clean up the mess. like I always do." and she turned her back on Bubbles and the professor, who had meanwhile stood up next to his blue-eyed daughter.  
  
"You going to be okay honey?"  
  
"Yeah. whatever. go take Miss Super Spit home and wrap up her boo-boo." Buttercup put her hands on her hips and shook her head, looking at the mess before her. "Hey! Who's in charge of this dump anyway?!" And she stomped away, only to be joined by who looked like a group of employees, their faces sullen and exhausted at the prospect of the cleanup before them.  
  
"Oh that BRAT!" Bubbles shrieked angrily, folding her arms and screwing her face up in a scowl. "She does this every time there's a job! Why can't she just accept things the way they arrrrrreoooooow. shoot it hurts." she finished, once again rubbing her head as it gave another throb of pain. The professor looked down at her.  
  
"Well. we should get Blossom home and take a look at that hand. I wonder what happened?" he said. his voice partially distracted. The last time he'd seen any of them bleed had been over the summer, and that hadn't been pretty.  
  
"Well. Blossom! Come on!" Bubbles said, still holding her head. Blossom turned, and her face was bright with pleasure, her trademark smile gracing her features. It was the same look she always had when she spoke to the public, the dignified expression that earned her the respect of a population.  
  
But as her face moved out of the camera's view her expression fell into a grimace of extreme pain and sadness, something she would never let anyone see but her family.  
  
Blossom glanced over at Buttercup once who was standing alone, glaring at her, almost like she hated her for something. Blossom was confused, and tried to wave to her sister with her good hand, giving her a small smile, but Buttercup never responded. She just shook her head and turned back to the cleanup work before her. Before Blossom could even call out to Buttercup she felt herself being pulled away by the professor.  
  
Little did the family know that someone unexpected was watching the news report that night. As the shadowed figure watched the form of Blossom on his television screen, eyes narrowed into glowing slits of glowing emerald, he smirked to himself. She was just so happy. It amused him how she could stand and be so content with herself, even after everything she'd been through, even after everything he'd done to her. How could she not be so damaged?  
  
And he saw her blood, and something rose within that he couldn't control. Yes, it was bloodlust, the very same swell of emotion that had taken over on that night in July. She was bleeding. again. and very soon she would be bleeding once more because of him, but not yet.  
  
And he saw something else that perked his interest. Buttercup. was standing behind Blossom, staring straight at her sister with an expression of pure loathing. Blossom didn't even know. She had no idea what her sister was really thinking, what she was really feeling inside. This was interesting. perhaps he could have a little fun with this new development, mix it up into his new little plan.  
  
"Let's see how happy you are after I'm through with you." he hissed, speaking into the darkness that no mortal had ever dwelled in.  
  
Confused yet? Trust me, all will be explained in the next chapter. There's lots of different plot points running together here, so bear with me. 


	4. Chapter Three

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 3

"So, what exactly happened back there?" Bubbles asked the rest of the family as they sat together at the dining table.  Buttercup still hadn't returned home yet, and the professor was carefully wrapping Blossom's cut in a stark white bandage.

            Blossom shook her head, flexing her hand to see if the wrap job was satisfactory enough.  "Well, I don't exactly know, but apparently Mojo's found a way to make his robot's able to do damage to us," she said, setting her hand down on the table with a sigh.  "Well, the outer shell can at least."

            Bubbles leaned both her elbows on the table and began shifting a loose napkin around with her hand, her eyes fluttering in concentration.

            "That part is obvious.  What about… the saw thing?" she asked quietly, shifting her eyes onto Blossom.  "Do you think its weapons are made out of X3Ti6?"

            X3Ti6: A mixture of Xantium and Titanium, the only metal that could cut their skin.

            Blossom stood from the table and wandered over to the fridge, where she began drumming her fingers against it nervously.

            "I suppose that would make sense.  Mojo knows that mundane metals can't hurt us… so he wouldn't even try those types of weapons unless he _knew_ they could do damage.  I suppose after seeing that giant saw thing, its safe to assume that Mojo's found a way of manipulating X3Ti6 into weapons.  Maybe that's why you couldn't throw it, perhaps the metal makes it too heavy for us to move it."

            Bubbles suddenly slapped her fist against the table, startling the professor enough to make him fling the roll of bandage tape onto the floor.

            "The medical store house!  Remember?!  He stole a bunch of crates of medical supplies!  I bet that's what was inside!  X3Ti6 needles!"  She said excitedly.

            "Well, I wouldn't get too happy about it.  This means we could potentially be in danger, assuming that robot has _other_ weapons made of the same material.  We need to be a bit more careful with Mojo next time," Blossom said, finally opening the fridge to claim a bottle of soda.  She sat back at the table and set it down in front of her.  

            "And about your hair.  I have absolutely no idea why he would have taken it.  There's absolutely no value in it for him.  All hair has is maybe some proteins and perhaps some DNA in the cells, but other than that its pretty useless for a mechanical genius."

            "Maybe he's scanning it for weaknesses?" Bubbles said hopefully.  Blossom shook her head.

            "No.  He's been dealing with us long enough to know what we can and can't handle, which isn't much.  The only thing I would be worried about now is that robot and when its going to pop up again.  We'll really need to be on our guard if we have to deal with it again.  There's no telling what kind of long range weapons it could have."  Blossom finished, glancing at the clock.

            Bubbles shuddered at the thought and leaned her head against the professor, who was looking at Blossom very studiously.

            "What?"

            "Oh, nothing.  I was just thinking about something."

            "Hey!" Bubbles cried as if she'd just realized something important.  "Didn't you tell us that Mojo used to be your lab animal?"

            The professor looked down at the table in an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact.  He didn't like talking about the past, especially when it involved any of the multiple versions of their birth story.

            "Well, yes, but do you also remember that I made most of the old story up?" he said, facing down as if the table had just asked him the question.  "But, I did know Mojo before you were born."

            "Well, how so?" Blossom asked, glancing again at the clock.  Buttercup had been gone an awful long time.

            The professor took a deep breath and stretched.  He folded his hands in front of him on the table and looked at Blossom.

            "Well, before we started on human embryos, we did experiments on animals-"  Bubbles gasped, and put her hand across her mouth.  "-Now, no animals were hurt, Bubbles."  She relaxed.  "Well, _Jojo_ was the only test subject.  We thought that the similarities in gene structure to humans would give us a good indication as to how human's were affected."

            "Ha, and despite the results you went ahead and did humans anyway?" Blossom laughed.  It was no secret that Mojo was just a little bit crazy- no- scratch that- he was insane.  Ever since they could remember he'd attempt time and time again to best the three of them.  It usually involved some sort of mechanical abomination, or occasionally he would just outright attack them personally with hand weapons.  He never succeeded, and the stories always ended the same.  They'd beat him up, he'd get carted off to jail, they wouldn't see him for about a week, and then he'd just break out.  Then the cycle would start all over again.

            But there was sort of a Bittersweet friendship between the four of them.  It was also common knowledge that Mojo had some how been mutated by Chemical X.  He was incredibly intelligent (one could say his large, protruding brain was evidence enough for that), he spoke and behaved like a human, and he even acquired the same super strength that the girls had.  Even his body shape had changed just slightly, making him more suitable to walking upright.  Although, he didn't have the assortment of powers that the girls had received, the power of flight the most obvious of those shortcomings, he seemed to manage fine without them.  It was this little factor of Chemical X in Mojo that made him somewhat of a brother to them.  There were rare occasions when they'd just show up at his home on top of the volcano, and he would actually be civil to them.  Sometimes, he'd even helped them save the city (but only if the girls managed to convince him that unless he did something, his title of evil genius would be swiped from under his nose).  A bittersweet friendship indeed.  

            Still, they were pretty sure he wanted to kill them.  Was it jealousy, or was it just anger?  Nobody really knew.

            The professor had once told them that Mojo had been his pet before they were born.  During this period his real name had actually been Jojo, and he was always down in the lab with the professor.  Jojo had been very young; perhaps only about a year old, and the old story went that Jojo had been the cause of the fateful Chemical X accident that had granted them life.  The professor had told them that Jojo had pushed him over while he'd been trying to concoct the recipe for the perfect girl, thus causing him to knock over the vial of Chemical X into the mixture.  In the explosion that ensued, the Xantium had also affected Jojo, but the professor had been so elated with his new children and everything they could do, that he forgot all about his faithful companion.

            In jealousy Mojo left the house, and the professor never even noticed.  There were sooooo many glaring flaws in this story it just couldn't possibly be true.  First of all, the biggest problem was the fact that it was scientifically impossible to create human beings out of kitchen supplies.  That part had already been established long ago.  Second of all, the professor, being in the room, should have also been affected by the blast, but he wasn't.  Lastly, how could the professor just forget about Jojo?  Surely he wasn't that heartless. Certainly he would have noticed at some point that Jojo was missing.

            "Okay then, how did the real story go?" Bubbles asked pointedly.  The professor sighed and brought his hand to his chin, thinking deeply.

            "Well, let me see," he said quietly.  "Well, as I said, Jojo was our first experiment.  Our results were in fact a success, despite the fact that we knew he was very unstable in the head.  He was strong, intelligent, and had even begun to converse like a normal human being.  These were the results we had hoped for-"

            "Except for the whole brain thing," Blossom cut in.

            "Well, yeah, that was a little bit unnerving.  We were hoping that same side effect wouldn't happen to humans.  It just wouldn't do to have people walking around with their brains falling out of their skulls."

            "Oh, just _think_ of the problems with sanitation!" Blossom squealed, grabbing her soda.  She frowned as she realized she'd let it get warm.  

            "Think of how gross that would be!" Bubbled chimed in, getting up to claim her own drink from the fridge.

            "Well, yes, but that isn't the point," the professor said.  "Now, where was I?  Oh yes, back to Jojo.  Well, we knew that despite the brain thing, the test was initially a success.  After all, Jojo _seemed_ fairly in tune with reality, and he certainly wasn't dead."

            "But we didn't know it was going to make him insane, and we didn't know how not in tune with reality he really was.  He rebelled against us, and eventually broke out.  We spent weeks trying to find him until we finally decided to move on.  We were hoping we'd have better luck next time…"

            "You mean, when you tried it on us?" Blossom asked.  The professor looked at her very mournfully, and then he finally dropped his head onto the table.

            "Yes," he said heavily, his shoulders dropping in defeat.  He went completely silent after that.  Bubbles set down her bottle onto the table and slapped the professor on the back.

            "Hey!  Guess what!  It was a success!" she said jovially, smiling brightly.  Talking about it had obviously upset the professor, and he was once again going through one of his guilt trips.  He did this every time a small mention of their convoluted birth story came up.

            "Dad," Blossom said, setting her hand on top of his head where it was still lying on the table.  "You don't have to feel bad.  We understand that you didn't have a choice."

            He looked up at her with tired eyes and smiled, the faint lines of age on his face creasing.  He sat up once again and took a deep breath.

            "I need to go take care of something…" he trailed off, and then he stood from the table and left the room, leaving Blossom and Bubbles alone.

            "So, why do you think Mojo wants to kill us so bad?  If it isn't because the professor turned his back on him, then why?" Bubbles asked, her eyes conveying that very faint adoration for Mojo that she'd always had.  For some reason, Bubbles had always found some shred of decency in her heart to feel bad for Mojo.  Or maybe it was just because she thought he was cute.  After all, he did seem kind of cuddly sometimes, except for the whole brain thing.  Not to mention his eccentric manner of speech was simply hilarious.

            "Well, maybe that isn't too far from the truth.  Maybe he does hate us because we weren't such screw-ups like he was.  Maybe it is just jealousy, and he just doesn't know how else to handle it except take it out on the entire city that has grown to love us."

            "Or maybe he's just an insane freakish monkey that wants to rule the world," a third voice cut in as Buttercup entered the kitchen, looking completely disheveled and exhausted.

            "Geez!  Took long enough!" Bubbles cried, but only received a very fierce stare from Buttercup.

            "Maybe its because I was the only one doing any cleaning at all!" she said before plopping herself down onto a third chair at the table.  "Man, does sitting feel good…" she said, closing her eyes and arranging her face into something of pure bliss.

            "You missed our conversation about Mojo," Blossom said, finally grabbing her soda and opening it.  "It was quite illuminating.  The professor told us where he really came from."

            "Oh yeah?" Buttercup said off-handedly, her eyes still closed as she leaned back in the chair leisurely.  "Yeah, I asked him about it last week.  It was right after Mojo's last robbery."

            "Ah," Blossom said bemused.  For some reason it just bugged her how Buttercup could be so off-hand about grilling the professor like that.  But, then again, they'd practically just done the same thing, so perhaps it didn't really matter anymore.            

            Instead of scolding, Blossom turned her attention to her warm soda and groaned.  She hated doing this, but it was so much easier than going to the freezer and grabbing ice from the tray.

            She brought it to her mouth and spit a quick burst of cold air into the bottle.  The insides edges crystallized over in a light film of frost, and the liquid itself chilled to a more desirable temperature.  But, the bottle had become just a little bit too cold, and it was biting at Blossom's hand with dry freeze.

            "Ow!  Perhaps I overdid it," she said casually, and she set the bottle down, only to notice that Buttercup was staring at her.

            "What?"

            Buttercup had gone strangely mute, but Blossom could definitely tell that inside she was ready to burst with some sort of unimaginable anger.  Her body was visibly tight and her brow was narrowed in hatred.  Bubbles was looking at the both of them, dumbfounded.  

            "Oh for god sakes, could you have a little shred of decency!" Buttercup shrieked angrily as she leapt up from her seat at the table.  She stood for a beat, glowering down at Blossom, and then she spun around and high-tailed it out of the room.  Tears had begun swelling in her eyes, and Buttercup never let people see her cry unless there was a _very_ good reason for it.  Soon Blossom was once again alone with Bubbles.

            "What's wrong with her?" Blossom said quietly, yet she had a very good idea as to what was actually wrong.  Her untouched drink had suddenly become very uninteresting.

            "I don't really know, Blossom," Bubbles said and Blossom nodded her head in response.  She took the bottle once again in her hand, and let the chilled glass fuel her anger and shame.  It wasn't her fault she could do it.  It wasn't her fault that Buttercup couldn't do it either.  Then why did she get so angry every time Blossom wanted to make use of her own gift?

            She looked down at the icy bottle and suddenly hated herself for doing it; hated herself for ever being able to breath ice.  Tears welled up in her eyes, but they were tears of anger.

            Not wanting to start bawling in front of Bubbles, Blossom excused herself from the table and ran up stairs to her room.  She stopped just outside of the guestroom door, the room that had become Buttercup's after their move, and thought about knocking.  She really wanted to talk to Buttercup.  Blossom didn't know what she intended to say, because she knew that no words could make Buttercup feel better, but she just wanted to say _something_.  This wasn't one of Buttercup's usual angry fits, this was angry depression, and Blossom didn't want her to stay that way for very long.  Buttercup was prone to do stupid things when she let her emotions get in the way, and there was no telling what she would do if she felt bad about herself.

            But, Blossom knew from experience that Buttercup wouldn't talk to her about it.  She never did.  She would probably just get angry and start breaking stuff, because stubborn as she was, she never liked to be confronted about her mood swings.            

            So, instead of trying to reason with her, Blossom walked to her own room, the room she shared with Bubbles.  It was their old room, the one with the three circular windows, except now there was a curtain up that separated the room in half.  It wasn't like they didn't enjoy sharing the room together, but they did need their privacy from time to time.  Instead of worrying about the mess of building a completely new room in the house, Bubbles and Blossom had both agreed that they would be willing to share the room.  Besides, Buttercup needed the seclusion more than they did, and they had all argued that nobody wanted Blossom to sleep alone.  Blossom would have ended up sharing her room with Buttercup, but she had pointed out that Buttercup tended to snore.

            And so, that had been the deciding factor in who should get their own room.  Needless to say Buttercup hadn't been too disappointed.

            Blossom walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, before turning on the lamp that sat on her dresser.  The room was filled with soft, glowing pink, and Blossom preferred that to the harsh glare of the ceiling light. 

            It was very quiet, so Blossom hummed to herself as she peeled off her shirt.  She threw it in the laundry bin and went to her dresser to grab a nightshirt.  She fiddled with it for a beat, and in that beat she caught sight of herself in the mirror next to the dresser.  To be more precise she caught sight of the hideous scar.  It looked much bigger in the dim light, and she frowned as she ran her finger across it.  It felt disgusting, and looked disgusting, and she felt her face grow red as she continued to stare at it.  She didn't want to think about it anymore, so with an inner feeling of sadness she tore her eyes away from it, and was about to put her shirt on when-

            "It is a marvelous piece of work isn't it?"

            _That voice!_

            Blossom gasped as she spun around, simultaneously stuffing the shirt over her head in embarrassment.  As soon as it passed over her eyes she could see her entire room, and nearly screamed as she realized where the voice came from.

            She cowered back, pressing herself against the dresser, feeling her heart begin to pound against her breast.  Her breath shuddered in her throat, and her throat went dry as her legs began to tremble, instantaneous panic taking over all of her involuntary functions.  No, this was not good at all 

            Sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, right next to her own circular window, was none other than the being she feared most.

            "Oh, Blossom, are you really that excited to see me?"

            And Blossom didn't even scream as Him stood up from the chair, leering like the devil he was.


	5. Chapter Four

Heightened Tensions- Chapter Four

"It certainly has been a while hasn't it?"

            Him stood from the chair by the window, and leered viciously at Blossom, who had meanwhile pressed herself against the dresser as far back as she could possible go.

            It was interesting how she didn't scream.  She just peered at him from under the bangs that covered her face, her rose eyes very wide and shining, and her mouth hung open in surprised shock.  She was panting roughly, out of the natural fear that rose in every mortal he decided to pay a visit to.  However, unlike his other unfortunate visits, he was in Blossom's room for a much different reason.

            "There is absolutely no need for you to behave this way…" Him said casually, taking a few leisurely steps towards her.  She whimpered as he drew nearer, her eyes darting to the claws at his sides.  All he could do was smile.

            Yes, naturally she would behave as she was after their last encounter.  He'd proved to her that he was definitely a force to be reckoned with.  There would be no more adolescent disrespect from the three girls, especially from Blossom.  There would be no more snickering laughter at his direction, specifically at his rather _different_ appearance.  She now knew it was not safe to judge a book by its cover.

            "I assure you, I'm not here to kill you…"

            _Yet…_

            She never took her eyes away from Him.  It was so peculiar how she could now stand so frozen by fear, yet she could easily take down anyone who tried to oppose her.  Then again, he wasn't exactly the same as a common thug she would encounter in the city.  He was much, much different.

            Blossom suddenly darted to her door, only to find that it wouldn't budge.  She jiggled the handle forcefully, trying with all her might to pull the sealed door, but it would never open, not as long as Him had control over it.

            "Perhaps you should just… relax…" he said, and he lifted a claw to touch her shoulder as he moved a few steps closer.  She spun around, her hair whipping through the air like an amber wave, bits of it dusting her flushed face.  Once she saw how close he was, she cried out and lifted her arms up in a defensive.

            Him stepped backwards, raising his arms up in defeat.

            "Fine, if you want to play hard to get… I'll bite…"

            Blossom narrowed her eyes, her shoulders heaving as she fought for air.  He watched the way her relatively small body moved in her panic, and the way her covered face reacted with each shuddering breath.  He found the overall effect quite appealing; something about her he had never taken the time to notice.

            Blossom did notice his eyes wandering and immediately gritted her teeth in anger.  Why did she not scream?

            "What do you want?" she sneered, her voice very low and harsh, yet shuddering in the fear she was now trying to hide.  He knew she was frightened.  He could practically feel the continuous thudding of her heart.  Yet now she seemed to have summed up some shred of bravery.

            "Is it so wrong to enjoy a visit with my _favorite_ little super girl?" he said, smiling, inching a futile step closer to her.  She swung a tightened fist at him to keep him at bay, and he bowed back gracefully.

            "You're full of shit.  Now what do you want?!"

            Him didn't respond immediately, considering his words carefully.  He had to calm her down, or he wouldn't get anywhere with her.  She obviously didn't trust him now, which was perfectly understandable, but he needed to somehow get her to stop trying to throw a punch.  

            He moved back and sat down on the edge of her bed, folding his arms across his chest as he gave Blossom the calmest smile he could muster.  Her eyes widened as he took as seat, almost as if he'd done something completely inappropriate.

            "Get off my bed!"

            "I can't even take a seat now?  Surely you aren't that cold?"

            She didn't respond, but to Him's delight she did lower her arms to her sides.  Yet, she did keep herself as far away from him as she possibly could.

            "You do realize that you really couldn't fight me off even if you tried?" he said leisurely, once again surveying his challenge before him.  What he would give to earn _all_ of her trust… but there was plenty of time for that in the future.  The way she awkwardly stood before him, her body tense, yet her face a mixture of rage and fear, made his own skin crawl with joy.  If she had relaxed so quickly, perhaps this would be much easier than he had anticipated.

            "If you honestly think I'm just going to lower my barriers to you, then you've got another thing coming-"

            "Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn't dream of that.  Although I feel most awful about our last little… encounter-"

            And he must have struck a chord; because he saw her eyes glisten over with a sudden onslaught of tears.  Her face grew very closed, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist, leaning slightly forward as if she was purposely trying to make herself look smaller.

            "If you aren't here to kill me, then what is it?" she said quietly, her eyes in his direction, but he had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn't really looking at him.  No matter.   That gave him more freedom to gaze at her without making her uncomfortable.  She really was quite a stunning creature, and almost for a second he wondered why he would ever consider killing her, not when there could be so much benefit from keeping her alive.  But then again, there was plenty of time for him to change his mind about tearing her down once and for all.  A lot could happen in the amount of time he intended to take.

            "You're right, I'm not here to kill you.  I don't even want to hurt you anymore.  Do you know why?" he said, softening his tone, yet unable to take the natural edge away from his voice.  She rose her eyes to him once again, and the anger was almost gone from her eyes, replaced by a distant sadness.  He saw this as his chance to get a little bit closer to her.  He wanted to give her the impression that he was willing to be gentle, if only she'd let him move just a few steps closer…

            He almost thought she'd react irrationally again, because her posture suddenly stiffened, and she got that angry look in her eyes again.  He froze in response, arranging his face into something of pity, waiting to see what she'd do.  She didn't move, but he didn't want to throw her into self-defense mode again.

            "Please don't make this hard for me Blossom.  I only want to talk…" and he moved closer to her, he was now an arm length away, and could almost feel her beneath his skin.  She jerked her arm quickly as if she was going to jab him in the face, but he grabbed her arm in his claw.

            "…You're about to make me very angry… you don't want to make me angry do you?  Not when I'm so willing to be civil with you?"

            Blossom was trembling, tears falling from her cheeks like delicate little jewels.  They were very close to one another, so close that he could feel her ragged breath against his neck.  He suddenly realized he liked being close to her.  His advantage in height, while minute, gave him a sense of superiority and control over her.

  He looked down on her, and let go of her arm, not wanting to let that little motion throw her off.

            She just looked up at him, not saying a word, letting slight whimpers escape her throat.  She obviously thought he was about to hurt her.

            "Are you willing to listen now?  I'm not going to hurt you…" he breathed, letting his eyes lock with hers.  She nodded her head shakily, her body still trembling so much he could feel it against his own body.  Her actions, though slightly predicted, still puzzled him.  He expected much more resistance than he had gotten, and he had at least expected her to start screaming in terror, but she hadn't.

            Fear was a fickly thing.  Perhaps she'd been too shocked by his mere presence that she had forgotten to cry for help.  That was common with some mortals, so paralyzed by their own fear they had easily succumbed to his whims.

            "I find it quite intriguing that someone with so much power…" he said, raising a claw to wipe the tears from her cheek.  She flinched violently when the corner of her eye caught sight of his claw near her throat, but otherwise didn't budge.  "…Can become so afraid… of little old me.  You weren't so afraid of me when you were a child.  Now why would you be now?"

            "Because you tried to kill me," she sobbed quietly, her tears becoming steadily stronger.  "I was foolish when I was younger.  I was too confident… I underestimated you…"

            "Yes, that's very true…" Him said, nodding.  He leaned his claws against the doorframe on either side of her, not wanting to let her escape.  "You realized you aren't quite as invincible as you had thought?"

            She once again didn't respond, because she was too busy trying to squirm away.

            "I'm not letting you go until we… talk…" he said, simultaneously lowering his face to her.  She twisted her head away and scowled.

            "And this is your idea of talking?" she choked, her eyes holding that angry fire from before.

            "I'll be perfectly honest with you," Him said softly, drawing his face away just slightly so that he could see her own.  Under these drastically different circumstances from before, he was seeing her much differently while in her presence.  It was true that she hadn't changed a bit since he last saw her, but in this very intimate of settings he found himself almost attracted to her.  Perhaps it was the fear in her that excited him, or perhaps it was _who_ she was.   Either way, this emotion in him was something he hadn't expected.    

            "I like you, Blossom.  I like you a lot, In fact-"

            "I feel so honored." She said blankly, yet her voice barely above a whisper.  Him cocked his head to the side good-naturedly and narrowed his eyes just slightly.

            "Why is it that every time I want to have a conversation with you, you develop a rather sassy little mouth?"

            She looked at him fiercely, but didn't say a word.  He could tell she was very uncomfortable being so close, but he didn't intend to let her go, at least for a while.  Now that he knew he enjoyed it, he wanted to savor this moment forever, lest he never get this savory chance again.

            "No matter.  I find it rather appealing in a female."

            "What?" she breathed.  She obviously knew what he was getting at, and she didn't seem to like it in the least.  "Get away from me."

            "Oh, always so rude to me… but that's what I like about you… in fact… that's why I've decided not to kill you at all." He said lightly, taking in her live scent.  "You're much more interesting alive-"

            Blossom finally managed to squirm away from him by ducking under his arms.  She moved to the other side of the room and stopped by the window, where she turned and watched Him suspiciously.

            "You aren't making any sense…"

            "Well, to put it simply, I'd much rather be a friend to you.  In these hard times in your life, you seem to need it now more than ever-"

            "I don't need your friendship-"

            "Oh?  Is that right?  Would you rather I did kill you?  Right now?"  And he raised a hooked claw into the air, letting the pale light gleam against its surface.  He smiled maliciously, and Blossom jumped back, almost falling through the thick curtain that hung from the ceiling.

            "No!"

            "_No_ what?  You don't want to die after all?" Him said, lowering his claw back to his side.  "Ah, I see.  Of course you don't want to die.  Nobody does…" and he trailed off, wondering if he should gush his deliciously wonderful secret to her.

            "Well… except for…"

            Blossom stopped cold, confused.  She was waiting for him to continue.

            "Nah… I suppose you wouldn't care…" he said joyously.  Blossom didn't really react, but her expression changed into something he really couldn't read: somewhere between confusion and anger.  Did she know what he was talking about?

            "What are you talking about?"  Apparently not.

            He turned his back to her and began surveying the room.  It was definitely very Blossom: full of pink and delicate, elegant-looking frill.  Certainly nothing he was accustomed too, but it was something he could get to liking.  Her faint scent hung in the air, something no human would ever notice, but something that he could catch.  He liked her scent, and wondered what she would smell like is she was caught in his arms.

            "So then… how are your sisters?"

            "Wh-what?" she stuttered.  It must have seemed odd how he had suddenly changed the subject so quickly.

            He turned back to her and caught her gaze.  Already he could see the gates crumbling.  She would be easy to conquer.

            "How is Bubbles?  Just as rambunxious as ever, I imagine?"

            "Um… she's… fine…"

            "Good, good…" and he began moving around her room, examining the various objects that littered the shelves and dresser-tops.

            "She won't think too highly of you being in our room-"

            "Oh my, is there any way to get privacy these days?" he said, poking at a vial of yellowish liquid on her dresser.  "What is this remarkable little potion?"

            "It's perfume-" she said forcefully, and she stomped towards him and snatched the vial out of his reach.  He drew back in dismay.  "-and don't touch it…"

            _Do you realize what you've done?_

            She had moved so close to him without even thinking.  He could easily grab her right there, and she didn't even seem to have been thinking about that possibility.  Yes, the walls were crumbling already.

            He straightened and looked down at her, keeping his gaze soft.  She looked up at him, her face mildly calm, yet she seemed to have faintly realized that she was just a bit too close.

            "How is… Buttercup?" he said silkily, letting his voice lower just slightly.  She looked up at him faintly, at first no sign of emotion on her face.  Soon he could tell that something about this subject bothered her, because she looked away, forlorn.

            "Uuummm… fine…"

            "Is it really that bad?"

            "How could you tell?"

            "I know many things, Blossom.  And I'm guessing that things aren't so great with Buttercup?"

            Blossom moved away from Him… and turned her back to him… that was interesting.  Now she was just being careless.

            "Well… they aren't, but-" she started, and he knew she was about to scream that it was none of his business, but he stopped her.  He swooped over to her and looked at her eagerly.

            "Having a little tiff are we?"

            "Um, yes, but-"

            "Do tell!"

            "I don't really think I should be discussing this with you-"            

            "Nonsense, what are friends for?"

            "Who said we were friends?!?!"

            "You obviously trust me enough… to turn your back to me…"

            Blossom put her hand to her mouth as if she was suppressing a scream, but she never made a sound.  She looked totally crushed, and had obviously realized what a grave error in judgment she had made.  She turned her shocked gaze to Him, her eyes very wide.

            "You see?!  I didn't attack you, now did I?"

            She dropped her hand and let her face soften.  Yes, yes… now he had her.

            "Now do you trust me?  I'm telling you the truth, Blossy."

            "What did you call me?" she asked, surprised.  Clearly she wasn't called that very often, and he knew only the most intimate of relations knew her by that name.

            "Oh… isn't that what you mortals call… a snickname?"

            "It's _nickname_," she corrected, but he was surprised to see she was actually smiling.   It was a smirk at best, but it was a nice overall effect anyway.

            "Now-" he said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed and patting the spot next to him with his claw.  "-come take a seat and tell me all about your troubles."

            "The floor is fine, thanks," she said quickly, dropping her body to the ground like a stone.  She was watching him suspiciously.  Such a pity, it would have been nice to sit next to her on the bed too.

            "Allright then.  What's wrong with your sister?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.  She was watching him strangely.

            "She's angry with me… because… I have ice breath and she doesn't…" she said softly.  Him nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin.

            "Oh yes… I remember this one…"

            Blossom suddenly leapt up and began pacing the room frantically, throwing her arms into the air with gusto.

            "It's as if she thinks I do it on purpose!  As if I suddenly gained divine powers and said 'Don't give Buttercup any special ability!' which is completely untrue and stupid, and it isn't my fault she hasn't developed anything unique to her.  She's partially mad at Bubbles too, because she can talk to animals, and she's really mad at me because every one thinks my ice breath is just so super cool, and it isn't my fault I have it, so why does she act like I did something wrong, and-"

            "Oh my… why don't you slow down, you're giving me a headache-"

            "I would give her a special power if I could… but I can't… and she's just jealous…" Blossom said, breathing heavily, turning to look out her window onto the city that stretched out in the distance.  She folded her arms across her chest and went silent, her shoulders rising and falling with calming breaths.

            She did it again, she turned her back to him without even realizing it, and Him decided to take advantage of this.  He stood and moved over to her, and let his claws rest on her shoulders.  She tensed at his touch, but she made no other response.

            "I know how frustrating this must be for you.  Certainly Buttercup is overreacting about it," he said softly.  Blossom relaxed and took a deep breath.

            "I'm worried about her."

            "Oh?"

            "Because she does stupid things when she's angry."

            "Well… I wouldn't worry too much about that… she wouldn't do _anything_ stupid." He said, unable to suppress the small grin that came.  It went by unnoticed by Blossom, who continued to stare at the flickering lights of Townsville in the distance.  If only she knew what he knew… but he could use that to his advantage later, when the time was ripe…

            "And you know what else?" he breathed, lowering his face down to her neck, letting his mouth hover over her ear.  She tensed again.   "I don't want to see you upset over this… your sister will _settle_ this on her own." He lowered his claws just slightly onto her arms, and he let his lips dance lightly against the skin on her neck.  She gasped and drew away just slightly, turning her head in his direction in surprised fear.

  Now was not the time.  He had to stick to his plan… and perhaps if he was lucky he would be able to have a little fun later… but not now.  He found himself hoping that she would soon let all the walls fall to dust.

            But she was about to pull away, completely terrified by his very forward actions.  He didn't want to throw her off so soon.  Perhaps if he gained more of her trust she would be more willing to go farther later on, but that was something that remained to be seen.

            "Blossom!" There was a voice outside the door.  She jumped and spun around, simultaneously pushing Him away.  Bubbles was pounding up the stairs, heading for the room, and very soon she'd throw the door open.  What an awkward situation that could turn out to be.

            Blossom looked at Him fearfully, unsure of what she should make of what had just happened.  She was about to say something, but he stopped her.

            "I bid you goodnight."

            And in a whirling burst of smoke he disappeared, leaving Blossom completely alone and confused.

            His plan didn't change.  He still intended to gain her trust, and then kill her after her mind was left so fragile and beaten.  He would use Buttercup to his advantage, to earn Blossom's friendship by helping her in her time of turmoil over her sister and what was yet to come.  Yet something came about that he hadn't expected.  He mused at little harm it would do to take full advantage of her in the end to his own pleasure, battering her even more with shame and regret when the time came to take it all away.


	6. Chapter Five

Heightened Tensions- Chapter Five

_Holy shit._

Bubbles burst through the door, a questioning look on her face.  She peered around the room for a second, as if expecting someone else to be standing there other than Blossom.

            _Holy shit._

            Blossom stood by her window, her face turned to the door, and she was looking at Bubbles, shocked, as if she'd been given quite a start.  She fumbled her hands nervously in front of her, trying to make herself look calm, but was doing a horrible job at it.  For some reason she couldn't shrink her eyes to their normal size.

            _Holy shit._

"Hey…. Um… who were you talking to?  I heard you yelling up here," Bubbles asked, stepping into the room.  She looked around again.  Blossom shook her head quickly and began flattening the sheets on her bed to make herself look busy.

            "I was just talking to myself," she said simply, dropping one of her frilly pillows on the floor.  She was trying desperately to even out her breathing, but was finding it very difficult to do over the thudding of her heart.  She leaned down to grab it, and blocked herself from Bubbles's line of vision.  She took a deep, shocked breath and bit her lip nervously, becoming increasingly more and more disappointed with herself.

            Blossom stood again, and saw that Bubbles was staring at her strangely, a blonde eyebrow raised in suspicion.

            "You were talking to yourself?" she said coolly, leaning her elbow against the doorframe, a small smirk gracing her features.  She was obviously making fun of her without actually coming out and saying so.  For some reason Blossom didn't really care all that much.

            _Holy shit._

"Yeah, I was… um, it helps calm me," Blossom stuttered, slapping her arms down at her sides.  She looked at Bubbles expectantly.  "Er- did you need something?"

            Bubbles lowered her elbow and folded her arms lightly across her chest.  She motioned out the door with a nod of her head.

            "The professor wanted you to help him with the new microwave," she said, before turning to walk back out the door.  "He needs help with the directions."

            "Oh, alright," Blossom said, and she moved to follow Bubbles out of the room, but not with out turning back to the window.  She stared at the empty space, as if something was supposed to be there, but really it was because she was still quite rattled over what had just happened.

            "Are you sure you're okay?" Bubbles said, startling Blossom out of her empty staring.  She jumped when she felt Bubbles grasp her shoulder, and finally realized that she'd been gazing open mouthed at her window in a complete dumbfounded stupor.  It must have looked rather odd.

            "Yes, yes!  I'm fine!  Move!" and she pushed Bubbles playfully towards the stairwell down the hall.  Bubbles stumbled and let out a horrified giggle, before finally leaping towards the stairs on her own accord.  She bounded down them, taking the last four steps in one giant leap and quickly disappeared behind the pillared stone fireplace that sat in the middle of the living room.  Blossom followed her, her pace hampered by the mere fact that she was trying to run everything through her brain at once.

            _Holy shit._

That was pretty much the only thing she could think for a good long while.  Her brain was a muddled mess of confused fear and anger.  _What the hell had just happened?!_

That had all happened, she was sure of it.  She certainly hadn't dreamed that Him had entered her room and had just obviously tried coming onto her.  

            _What in the hell was the deal with that?!_

That wasn't the worse part.  The part that angered her most was the fact that she'd actually _warmed up to him_.  No, she didn't approve of his advances at all, and certainly had no intention of returning them, but why in the world had he even been doing that in the first place?  Was he trying to prove something?  Did he actually have a very sudden change of heart and suddenly not want to kill her?  That seemed positively ridiculous.  Why on earth would he now want to be her friend and be kind to her, waltzing into her room unannounced even after the last time they'd met he'd stabbed her in the gut (literally).  Was he actually being truthful? 

_NO!  Why do you even think that!_ _?  He's planning something!  That whole kindness thing was just a big scam!  He's trying to trick you!  _

_He wants you to trust him, and then he's just going to take advantage of that in the end._

_Be CAREFUL.  If he comes around again… don't let him fool you like that!_

_Why the hell did you give in and start confessing your anger?!  That was really friggin' stupid!_

That _had_ been stupid.  Why had she caved in so easily?  That was probably the part that was angering her the most.  He barely even had to try when he was trying to get her to warm up to him.  She did it totally on her own, and even wondered if he'd had some sort of influence over how quickly she'd let her guard down.

No, she was only kidding herself.  She screwed up.  It was entirely her fault and she knew it.  Why had she let herself get so comfortable around him so quickly?  She'd even turned her back to him for crying out loud- twice even- and he definitely used that to make his point: that he didn't want to hurt her.  He wanted her to trust him, and stupidly, she'd given in much too quickly.

_BUT HE TRIED TO KILL YOU!_

That was definitely true, she would never forget that.  But… he did have a point.  He could have easily attacked her when her back had been turned.  Hell, he could have attacked her at any point and it wouldn't have made any difference.  His point had clearly been made.  He didn't intend to hurt her now, but why, she didn't fully understand.  Why had he suddenly changed his mind?

_He didn't change his mind you moron.  He's still going to kill you.  Just be on your guard from now on._

Whether or not that was actually true she could only guess.  Maybe he did plan to hurt her… but it would have been so easy for him to do it right there, and nobody would have even known until it was too late.  The point was, he hadn't tried anything… so maybe he was telling some shred of truth…

She rubbed her neck roughly, trying to erase the feel of his breath on her skin.  That part of the ordeal was completely dumbfounding.  He had, in his own strange way, been flirting with her, and that was so horribly obvious she didn't even need to think about it.  Although, it disgusted her completely, she wondered if that was possibly why he suddenly didn't want to hurt her.  Perhaps, he, daresay it, liked her?

Nah, that was absurd.  He was just doing it to get under her skin: to bother her and annoy her.  It definitely worked.  She was absolutely repulsed and really didn't want a repeat performance.  After all, once again, _he did try to kill her_.  That normally doesn't make for very good intimate relationships.

Or maybe he was just doing that as another way of gaining her trust, by being affectionate?  That part seemed stupid, because she certainly couldn't picture Him being affectionate, much less ever having an attraction to someone.  It was positively laughable.  

No, he was definitely doing it to annoy her, nothing more.  But if he really wanted to be her friend, was annoying her at the same time really a good way to go about it?

Then again… it made better sense to say that was why he didn't want to kill her anymore.  Perhaps he did just want to be her friend?  But god, she'd been so careless, it was bordering on shameful.

Whatever the case, she definitely had to stay alert.  She wasn't going to turn her back to him again, and she was going to keep a closer eye on his activities if he ever came back again.  She didn't want to be caught unawares.  

"Hey, Blossom, you going to stand there or help?" Bubbles voice cut into her wandering and snapped her back to attention.  She'd been standing in the middle of the kitchen for five minutes and hadn't even noticed that the professor and Bubbles were staring at her.

"Huh?  Right.  Microwave," and she kneeled down the help the professor open the box; putting on the best attitude she could come up with.

***

Buttercup was angry.  No, she was enraged.

She really couldn't understand why she felt this way.  After all, she was used to being treated like an outcast from her family.  For as long as she could remember she had been dubbed as the doomed "middle child", despite the fact that her and her sisters were the same age.  It had started long ago, even to the very day that they had gained consciousness and the professor had named them.  She was constantly shut out, and regarded as not being quite as special as her other, perfect sisters.

Buttercup sat at her desk in the room, the lights completely out and the curtains on the windows drawn.  She preferred being in the dark in her times of distress.  It helped her relax.

But it was hard to relax, not when she felt so crappy.  In fact, she wasn't even quite sure if it was anger she was feeling at all.  It was just a constant tugging at her heart that was trying to goad her into snapping, trying to pull some sort of string that would perhaps make her finally go crazy.  It was a sickening feeling, so desperate and depressed, that it was making her feel very torn apart.  

She fingered the string on her desk lamp, letting the darkness swell around her as it provided some measure of shelter from the inner turmoil she was battling.  She felt so sick and confused, that she just wanted to stay there in the dark forever and never come out again.

She heard Bubbles's voice outside in the hall, and then Blossom's more muffled voice followed.  She didn't hear what they said, but didn't even really care.  She didn't give a damn about anything they said right now, because they were the main cause of her problems.   Something happened earlier in the day that had sparked a hidden anger in her, one that had been left to fester in the recesses of her soul for who knew how long.  It had been Blossom, using her stupid ice breath in front of her as if it was nothing more than being able to cross her eyes.

Perhaps it was actually jealousy.  But no, she couldn't be jealous, because that would make her weak.  

But she had every right to be angry and hate them.  Everybody loved them, and for what?  Just because Red could breath ice and Bubble-head could talk to stupid animals.  And naturally, everyone forgot about little old Buttercup in the fuss and oogling over them, even though it was always her who ended up cleaning the mess.  Time and time again she was completely, utterly shafted, left to stand in the dark while her other two sisters took the spotlight.

Shouldn't she have something special too?  Why was it, that she was the only one of the three of them who had nothing going for her, who had nothing that people could admire and fuss over?  After all, wasn't she the sister who was swimming in the highest Xantium frequency?  Shouldn't she, out of all of them have her own special power with all the extra Chemical X in her body?  Perhaps, even have something better, seeing as she was the strongest out of three?  

But it didn't work that way.  Of course it didn't, because she was just nothing special.  She was the outcast who was left to tidy the mess after the two super sisters passed through in all their cutesy glory.  It just wasn't right, because it made her feel increasingly useless, and made her feel like she had no reason to be hanging around.  Why should she hang around when Townsville could have so much better, and something much more exciting and perfect?

Buttercup sighed, and looked to her door as she heard Bubbles and Blossom pass by.  She scowled to herself, and in her anger she flung the lamp of her desk and let it shatter against the wall.  Stupid Blossom, stupid Bubbles.  She didn't need them anymore.  She didn't need anybody.

Buttercup sat silently in the dark, letting her mind linger on her hatred, a burning sadness telling her that she just wasn't good enough for anything.


	7. Chapter Six

Heightened Tensions- Chapter six

            A few days later, the girls were awake much earlier than they would have liked.

            It was warm outside, the sun shinning from behind a small tuft of early September clouds.  The sky was alive with the brilliant colors of the early sun; bright orange and stark periwinkle, complete with the left over dewey haze of dawn.  Birds were still singing, and the trees were still with their leaves.  It was a place they would have much rather been.

            But instead, they were inside, sitting silently in the cold, blank room that served as their first period of the day.  Biology.  With the newly hired Mr. Utonium.

            A bell chimed in the building around them, the old, stone building that looked more like a fallout shelter than a school.  The halls were like open, white corridors that looked more like a hospital than a place were young people came together to learn.  The floors were white tiled, inlayed with randomly placed black tiles with peppery surfaces.  The walls, were bare, and lacked any sort of decoration or artistic piece.  Perhaps it was just the beggining of the year vibes that made all the teenagers feel like they were actually in prison, rather than a place that was supposed to be fun.

            The professor had told the girls all about the schools history.  It was the oldest highschool in Townsville, and had been modeled after its sister highschool in Nara, Japan.  

            Blossom sat at a desk in the front of the room, dimly feeling sorry for any child that had to attend school in Japan.  It must have been majorly depressing.

            Bubbles sat behind her, giggling with one of her friends whom she hadn't seen for years.  There had been lots of people who had been most suprised, and happy, to see them, mostly people they'd grown up with in Pokey Oaks kindergarten.  The three of them had gotten tons of time to catch up with old friends, and even talk to some old acquantences whom they'd only met through one of their old Townsville saves.  It seemed like the day was going to start off great.

            But then the reality had set in that they all had ten, horrible months of work to look forward too, and as the rest of the stragglers hurried into the classroom after the bell, Blossom got to thinking again.

            She looked around, realizing that she hadn't seen Buttercup since the early morning.  They'd arrived at school really early, two hours early in fact, and Buttercup had taken off on her own almost as soon as they'd set foot in the door.  She was still in a surly mood, and had barely spoken more than ten words to her, Bubbles or even the professor, ever since the night she stormed from the kitchen.

            Thinking about that night suddenly reminded Blossom of what else had happened.

            Him hadn't come back since that night, and Blossom dimly mused that it was perfectly okay withe her.  She didn't want him to come back, but deep in her mind, she knew that he was going to, whether she liked it or not.  Until that time came, she didn't want to think about it.

            Sighing, Blossom looked about the classroom, scanning the faces of the rest of the students in the class, some of them familiar, some not.  She finally found Buttercup, sitting in the back of the room next to Mitch, the two of them talking away.  Buttercup didn't notice Blossom staring at her, and didn't even turn around until the voice of the professor floated up from the front of the room.

            The early morning started with roll call, each student responding with some sort of depressed recognition of their name (except for Bubbles, who was just as cheerful as ever).  Buttercup had only responded with a grunt at the sound of her name being called, instilling various whispers and snickers from the class.  The professor had looked at her gravely, but refrained from saying anything embarassing.  Suprisingly, nobody seemed to realize yet that their new Biology teacher was the father of the Powerpuff Girls.  Blossom found that strange, seeing as she was sure that his name had been mentioned in the news at some point.  But then again, how many kids pay attention to the news?

            "We're going to do a lab today!" the professor said brightly, setting his clip board down on the overhead.  The class groaned, and some of them mumbled about homework.  Blossom smiled at the professor who caught her eye.  It was rather strange sitting in his classroom, being regarded as another student, when he was very clearly much more than that.

            "So, I'm going to break you into lab partners..." more groans,  "Oh please, its only for today.  You'll get over it." and a couple of the more studious people chuckled.

            Then the professor started pairing people up, seemingly randomly, but then Blossom realized he was doing it alphabeticaly by last name, having picked his clipboard up again.  That would mean that one of them was going to get stuck with Buttercup.  Perfect.

            Alright, Blossom, I want you to partner with Buttercup-"

            _Typical_.

            Blossom turned and stole a glance at Buttercup, and was suprised to find her already staring directly at her.  Their eyes met, and Buttercup's face suddenly twisted into a very elsuive snarl.  Blossom raised her eyebrows challengingly, before turning around with a characteristic eye-roll.  This was going to be fantastic.

            The professor caught Blossom's glance again, and looked at her expectantly, one eye brow raised in a very stern, fatherly fashion.  Blossom understood why he did it.  He wanted them to work it out.  Surely he'd notcied they were in the middle of another one of their rediculous arguments.

            The class got up from their seats and shuffled to the back of the room to where the lab tables were set up.  They were a serious of counters that were double-sided, split horizontally down the middle by a low shelf.  Each one had a sink and flammable gas spouts on the counter top, that were used for labs and such.  Blossom took one of the first counters at the front and Buttercup trudged up behind her, huffing angrily.

            Bubbles took the counter directly opposite her, and she was followed by a red haired boy with glasses.  He was thin, slightly taller than Bubbles with a thick wad of wavy hair on his head.  His face was very young looking and his skin pale, but there was a very mature look in his eyes that radiated a misunderstood intelligence.  Blossom thought she recognized him, but didn't say anything.  Bubbles didnt know him, but seemed perfectly happy to be partners with a complete stranger.

            "Dexter, right?" she asked joyfully, extending her hand out for a shake.  He looked at her strangely, his clear blue eyes narrowed.  "I'm Bubbles!  It's very nice to meet you!  These are my sisters!" and she pointed to Blossom and Buttercup on the other side of the table.  Blossom smiled apologetically and Buttercup just gave a snort of distaste.  Yes this was going to be tons of fun.

            While Bubbles was chatting away happily with Dexter on the other side of the table, Blossom felt the professor sneak up behind her.  He grasped her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear.

            "You guys gotta stop this..." he mumbled under his breath.  Blossom nodded.

            "I know," she said softly.

            He nodded, satisfied, and then turned to adress the entire class, wanting to stop them before they caused any trouble.

            "Now... I'm going to hand out these lab sheets- no, this is just a simple experiment- and I want you to follow the directions.  First day  intro to Biology!" he chuckled, before moving about the room to start passing out the stack of papers in his hand.  Blossom turned away from him, and saw Bubbles gesturing widely with her arms.

            "And I swear to god, this city was looooads bigger than Townsville-"

            Dexter seemed to be only mildly interested, as he stood with his elbow against the table, leaning sideways.

            Blossom gratefully took a apaper from the professor and began scanning it, before turnig to the supplies that were already on the table.

            "Okay... so we're looking at cheek cells.  How original," Blossom mused.  It was the standard lab they did in every science class at the beginning of the year... except this time, they got to change their colors with various colored dyes.

            Buttercup was leaning up against the table, facing away from Bubbles and Dexter, who were suddenly engrossed in conversation.

            "And this bridge actually floated!!  A total marvel in scientific engineering!"

            "Scientific engineering eh?  I know a bit about that-"  his voice was strangely clipped as if he had some sort of foreign accent.  It was very faint, but it was definitely what Blssom wasn't expecting to hear come from his mouth.

            Blossom nudged Buttercup roughly.

            "Come on, we have to draw diagrams.  Could you get some colored pencils?  We have to flash heat the cells after we soak them in dye..."

            She turned on the heating stove and waited for Buttercup to return with the pencils.  She exchanged glances between the heating burner and Bubbles on the other side of the table.  Bubbles was speaking so loudly it would have been impossible to ignore her.  The boy was actually talking with her now, and seemed much more pleased than he had been before.  Blossom wasn't sure what they were talking about, but thought she heard a mention of Mojo in the discussion.

            Buttercup returned, and they stood in awkward silence together as they waited for the burner to heat up.  Blossom wanted to start a conversation, but didn't really know what she wanted to say without sounding incredibly dumb.

            "So, um, what class do you have next?" she said stupidly, swirling her fingr along the countertop.

            "English." Buttercup responded plainly, grabbing a cotton tip from the sterylized canister at their station.  She swirled it in her mouth and then grabbed one of the tiny glass microscope sheets.  Blossom tried to help her by dripping the sanitized water on it from the bottle, but Buttercup garbbed it out of her hand.  "Here's some stupid cheek cells."

            Blossom took it out of her hand, completely crestfallen, and slowly grabbed for one of the bottles of colored dye.  She looked up at the professor, as if looking for some kind of guidance, but he wasn't paying attention to her.  He was busy helping another student who couldn't get their burner to work.

            "Oh." she said softly, feeling a single tear gather in her right eye.  _Goddamnit, don't cry now._

            She sniffed, and held it back.  It always bothered her when they fought, especially ever since what had happened to them over the summer.  It was like Blossom had been given a second chance to have a loving relationship with her sister, but her sister didn't want any part of it.  At least not now.  That was incredibly hurtful, and made her start wondering if Buttercup would be acting like this if she'd ended up dying.

            But she'd been so lost in her sorrowful thoughts that she hadn't watched what she was doing.  She set the glass sheet down on the burner, but had forgotten to take her hands away, thus getting a rather nasty jolt of heat.

            "OW!" she cried, flinging her hand backwards, and at the same time throwing the dyed cells across the room.  It shattered against a second lab table, and fell the the floor in a purple mess.

            It hadn't really hurt that much, but it had been enough of a shock to suprise her.  A couple peopple turned to look, but nobody really seemed to notice, except Bubbles and Dexter.  They were both looking at her in suprise.

            She shook her head to motion that she was okay, before grabbing a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess.  She leaned over the shattered glass, and was about to start cleaning it, when the professor, as if by radar, swooped down on her from above.

            "Now, I'll do it!  Are you okay?" he said, a concerned look in his eye.  It was annoying how he now did this everytime she was hurt, as if any sort of injury was going to be the end of her.

            "No, I'm fine.  It's just a little burnt-"

            "Hmm, maybe if you suck on it, you'r ice breath will heal it," Buttercup's scornful voice came from behind her, and Blossom spun around, her patience suddenly drained.

            "My God, when will you GROW UP?!" she shrieked, throwing her handful of paper towels in BUttercup's direction.  They just fluttered uselessly to the floor.  Buttercup folded her arms and didn't say anything, but turned her back on Blossom and leaned against the counter.

            "ANSWER ME!"

            And the entire class fell into a very tense silence.  They knew that when the Powerpuff Girls started yelling, it meant something was about to happen.  The professor had even frozen in his tracks.

            Buttercup was visibly gripping the edges of the counter, her knuckles white and fingers trembling with stress.  She was facing Bubbles, but wasn't looking at her.  In fact, Blossom had no idea what she was looking at, but didn't really care.

            "YOU'RE SO SELFISH!" Blossom cried, tears gathering.  She really didn't want to cry on the first day of school.  What kind of impression was that going to make?

            "Girls," the professor started, calmly, then, "Not. Here." he said tensly, gritting his teeth in supressed anger and disapproval.

            Buttercup's shoulders were hunched, her eyebrows scrunched in anger.  Bubbles was staring at her strangely, and she waved a hand in front of her sister's face as if trying to break her stare.  The only thing she could have been looking at was a giant glass jar on the counter against the wall.

              "ALWAYS THINKING THAT EVERYONE SHOULD FEEL SORRY FOR YOU-"

            Buttercup suddenly jerked her head back, and at the same instant something very unusual happened-

            -The glass jar against the wall suddenly exploded in a torrential shower of glass and water.  The entire class drew back in a horrified uproar as bits of the once jar flew across the room.  Bubbles screamed the loudest, falling backwards with her hands over her head as she roughly shoved herself into Dexter in an attempt to shield him from the slicing shards of glass.

            Blossom didn't scream, but only stared in stupified terror at both the soaking spot on the counter where the jar had once been, and Buttercup, who had jumped back in shock.

            _What the hell?!_

Buttercup turned, her face very shocked and eyes wide, her anger gone.  She looked around at the class, who were all staring at her silently, mixed emotions on everyone's faces.  Nobody really knew what to make out of what had just happened.

            "Buttercup..." the professor began to say, reaching out to her as if trying to comfort his shaking daughter.  She shook her head fiercly, drew back, and cast on long angry look at Blossom before grabbing her bag and tearing out of the room to escape.

***

            Blossom and Bubbles remained behind after class to speak with the professor.

            He was sitting at his desk, the trashbin full of fresh glass shards as his feet, shaking his head in dismay.  Buttercup hadn't returned to class after the ordeal, so nobody got a chance to ask her what had happened.

            "Well, you saw her face, didn't you?" Blossom asked Bubbles.  Bubbles looked pale, and hadn't gotten back an ounce of her color after almost being attacked by a broken water jar.

            "Yes... and... she didn't do anything.  It wasn't her eye lasers.  We would have noticed that-"

            "How is your friend?  Did he get hurt?" the professor looked up at Bubbles, holding his worn looking face in his hands.  He suddenly looked very tired, and probably wasn't going to have a very good rest of the first day.  Cetainly not after the shock everyone had just had.

            After Buttercup had left, the entire class had been silent, no one really sure as to what they were supposed to do.  The professor had even been too shocked for words, and it wasn't until Blossom turned and offered to help him clean up, that he'd stopped staring at the door as if expecting Buttercup to come back.  Then, the frantic whispering had begun, and Blossom had to restrain herself to keep from telling them all to mind their own damn business.

            "Who, Dexter?  No, he's fine.  I think he might have gotten cut a little bit, but I managed to block most of the glass.  I _know I got most of the water," she finished sadly, grabbing a soggy pigtail.  She tried wringing out some of the remainging water.  "She closed her eyes at one point, and she looked really angry.  Her face was beet red," she continued, giving up on her attempts to force the water from her hair.  Her shirt was nearly soaked as well as her hair, which was hanging limply from the hairties that held it back._

            "Then, her eyes just kind of snapped open... and then the jar just exploded.  Freaked me out!" Bubbles cried.

            "I wonder what... happened..." Blossom said distantly, suddenly feeling like it was all her fault.  Perhaps if she hadn't started yelling at Buttercup, making her angry-

            "Well, maybe it was the eye lasers, and maybe it was just too quick to see," the professor said, standing as the students for second period started filing in the class.  Some of them looked up and noticed Blossom and Bubbles standing at the front of the room.  They smiled and gave sheepish waves of recognition.

            "We should go," Blossom said, and she touched Bubbles on the arm and motioned for them to leave.  They turned back to the professor, who was rummaging around his desk to prepare for his next class.  He didn't notice them leave, and as Bubbles and Blossom went out into the hall, Bubbles suddenly turned to her sister.

            "Maybe it was the eye lasers... and I just didn't see..."

            "I don't know..." Blossom responded.

            They parted ways, each going to their separate classes, both of them not entirely sure what had just went wrong.

More Legal stuff:  Dexter and everything associated with him also belongs to Cartoon Network and that genius Genndy Tartakovsky.


	8. Chapter Seven

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 7

It was very dark out that night, and Bubbles wasn't too happy about it. While she wasn't as afraid of it as she used to be, she'd always hated the dark and the way it seemed to close around the body. Bad things always seemed to happen when there was no light.

Bubbles walked quickly down the road, clutching the plastic bag in her hand. It was late, and she was heading home after an emergency trip to the store. School had only been in session for two weeks, and already she had a huge project to finish.

As she walked, she started thinking about what was going on. Ever since that incident on the first day of school, Buttercup had become even more recluse than before. In fact, the only time she would ever show her face was when it was time to eat. She shut herself up in her room, and never made a sound, only exiting to trudge around the house with a very grim expression on her face. Needless to say, everyone was getting worried about her. The only person she ever talked to was Mitch, and well, Bubbles absolutely despised him, so she wasn't about to go up to him and ask him what was wrong. Besides that, she seemed perfectly fine when she was talking to other friends at school.

Blossom was a whole different story. She seemed perfectly fine in her mannerism, but for some reason she'd started getting really anxious. She was always looking around her wherever she'd go, as if expecting that someone was going to sneak up on her. She also started shutting herself up in her room, the one that they shared, and often times Bubbles thought she heard Blossom talking to herself. That was just a bit strange, and when she'd go to investigate Blossom would seem totally surprised and absolutely rattled when she'd enter the room. It was almost like she was hiding something, but instead of prying into her sisters personal business, she'd decided to leave it alone. Surely if it was something important, Blossom would tell someone.

So far, school was much better than she thought it would have been, at least for her. She'd barely had any homework, and the project she now had to do was so far the most amount of work she'd gotten. It had been so nice to get back to the life she had missed in Townsville, and to see all the people that she hadn't seen since they'd moved away. 

But what had probably excited her the most was the new people she'd met, and one person stood out in particular. It was common for people to naturally be drawn to her, and her other sisters, seeing as who they were, so often times it wasn't so special when a stranger wanted to be their friend. Perhaps you could say they were just being used. But there had been one person in particular that she'd noticed, who hadn't seemed to care who she was, and hadn't been clamoring to be her friend in the first place; Dexter.

He was certainly a strange kid, very eccentric and intelligent like none other, and that was probably why Bubbles had been drawn to him. He hadn't treated her like a celebrity, which was what usually happened when she'd first meet people, but he'd treated her like a normal teenager. The first thing she'd noticed was his out-of-place personality among the rest of the students, and she had instantly found that intriguing. That was why she'd been so eager to be his friend, and after a while, he'd finally caved in. Now they were partners in labs all the time, and he had actually started to come off as being more friendly then he had originally let on.

_Yet, he seems to be hiding something as well…_ she thought blankly as she past by Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. She looked at, sitting gloomily in the darkness as she passed, and started to think back wistfully to her younger years. How she missed those days, when everything seemed so light-hearted and carefree… even their tussles with Him hadn't seemed so serious back then, and briefly she wished she had some sort of time machine that could take her back. She'd never have to grow up again. At least then, she wouldn't have had to experience last summer.

Bubbles walked, and let a small burst of cold wind toss her hair around. She wrapped her thin sweater tightly around her body and sighed. She was tired, very tired, and just wanted to go home and sleep. If only she could still fly-

-Then something instantly caught her attention. A sound, _something_ happening that definitely wasn't supposed to be there. Then all at once she felt her insides tingle as her fighting instincts kicked in, her body suddenly growing very tense as she dropped the bag onto the sidewalk. That sound… it almost sounded like-

-A laser, charging up. Something was about to attack.

There was a tremendous burst of sound and a flash of light somewhere to her right. Bubbles moved in a fit of panic, leaping out of the way to avoid the gigantic blast of energy that torpedoed into the pavement, creating a crumbling explosion that dusted her with bits of debris. Completely horrorstruck, Bubbles leapt up, in a partial crouch, and began scanning the darkness around her, heart beating madly in her breast.

Then she heard it, the rumbling whir of geared joints as a tremendous shape in the shadows of Pokey Oaks kindergarten moved towards her. It was slow, and its form barely distinct amongst the darkness, but she definitely saw _something_, something huge.

The form moved towards the dim light of the street lamp, and all at once Bubbles finally realized what it was. _That robot…_

It was the very same robot her and Blossom had tangled with at the department store, the very same one that had captured her in its iron grasp. It was partially humanoid, moving on two, thick appendages that glowed dully in the sparse light of the street. The rest of its body retained the same thickness as its legs, almost giving it the appearance of some sort of headless bird; its torso much bigger in girth than the rest of its body. It had no head per say, but a wide, glowing extension that looked like the front end of a very large amphibian, its peculiar hinged _mouth_ expelling an odd mechanical hiss. 

As its glowing eyes marked her, one of its impossible thick arms raised in her direction, the end smoking after the blast, Bubbles stumbled backwards. It had more weapons, and she knew it did. Its arms and legs were covered in what looked like the openings to a VCR, hiding what was buried deep inside its metallic hide, hiding weapons that she knew held destructive power beyond imagination.

And she remembered that it was fast. It looked awkward and slow… but it could run. She remembered it running towards her so vividly, she had to force herself from fleeing in terror. But she was a Powerpuff Girl… she was better than that.

A wordless growl emanated from the machine's direction, its elephantine feet thudding into the pavement as it moved ever closer. Bubbles heard its arm weapon charging again… it was going to fire directly at her.

There was an enormous flash of harsh light, followed by the painful sound of an eruption of energy. The machine fired, a sphere of fizzling light hurtling in Bubbles's direction, eager to tear her apart.

Bubbles moved, her legs kicking off of the ground almost an instant before the whirling mass of energy blew past her, so close she felt the heat graze her skin. She fell in a roll, her body biting into the shockingly cold pavement, and she was up an instant later. 

The robot was almost upon her, and Bubbles gasped at its sheer size. It was much bigger up close, and it towered over her, its red eyes trained on her face. It was surreal, and for a second Bubbles thought she must be dreaming, _hoping_ that this couldn't be real.

Her eyes narrowed, suddenly realizing that this was nothing more than another one of Mojo's clever little creations. She'd taken down hundreds of these, and had even taken Mojo down single-handedly. Surely this was just another walk in the park. At least, she hoped, gathering her nerve as she stared up into the strange, expressionless face of her attacker.

There was a whirring of gears and machinery as its cannon arm suddenly folded into itself, metal parts fitting and moving together with unbelievable efficiency. There was an ear-splitting, metallic _shink_ of metal scraping against metal as something long and thick suddenly grew from the bulge of its arm, something that looked very much like a ridiculously long knife.

_Oh, crap._

The robot suddenly slashed its arm through the air, the dagger on its end burrowing into the pavement like a shovel through dirt. Bubbles leapt backwards, her mind running through different options and strategies, none of them really making any sense. She wasn't exactly used to fighting alone, and really didn't have any knowledge as to how to approach this new threat.

_Why didn't I ask Blossom to come with me!_

But Blossom wasn't here, and she wouldn't be coming either. Most likely she was too busy to notice that her sister was in trouble. Knowing her luck, that was the truth.

The robot was doubled over, its arm trapping it into the ground with its sheer power. Its head was still turned in her direction, almost like its attention from her would never be broken, no matter what ill fate would occur to its body. It was a very disturbing feeling indeed, and Bubbles just stood there dumbly, returning its emotionless stare.

Then all at once Bubbles was suddenly overcome with what she had to do. She had to kick it while it was down, to beat it while it was trapped, she had to-

-With a burst of speed she plowed forward, kicking off the ground with her left leg as she brought her other forward. She aimed under what seemed to be its chin, hoping her power could decapitate the beast, thus ending its wordless pursuit-

-But her leg connected with diamond-solid metal, barely even budging as her own strength crashed against it. She cried out, both out of shock and pain, the first amount of pain she'd felt in a long time, and she fell back to her feet, her left ankle crumbling beneath her. She fell to the pavement with a loud smack, whimpering as her ankle throbbed in protest. She hadn't even left a dent in it.

The robot suddenly tore its arm from the ground with a violent spray of dirt and chunks of stone. It readjusted itself, its face still on Bubbles, and it regained what little composure it needed. It lifted its arm again and drove it down, attempting to skewer Bubbles on the sidewalk.

She rolled back, wincing as she put pressure on her hot, pulsing ankle. She shrieked in a surge of panic as she felt something cold and sharp slice against her upper arm, immediately followed by the warm ooze of blood. Ignoring that, she let her body realign correctly with the ground, and her eyes burst in a dazzling ray of charged energy, knocking the robot back at least two paces. _Only two paces?_

Its gaze was suddenly broken from her as it attempted to regain its balance, extending its arms to gain support. In those scant few seconds she had, Bubbles decided to flee. The pain was getting in the way.

Bubbles turned and ran, biting her lip as her bad ankle slapped against the ground time and again. But she had to get away. This robot, this wasn't like anything Mojo had done before. This was different. This was something not even her or her sisters could fight, because she had the blood to prove it.

Bubbles grabbed her upper arm and squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to look at her hand. She knew what she'd see, and she knew what it meant. She was bleeding, and that meant that Mojo had found a way to hurt them. They could even be killed.

But what would she tell her sisters? Would she tell them the truth? But to imagine the scathing look on Buttercup's face when she'd learn that Bubbles had crapped out and ran from a fight. And to see the air of disapproval on Blossom's face as she scolded Blossom for not being more resourceful. No, that was too much to bear.

Bubbles suddenly stopped and turned, expecting to see the mechanical beast lumbering after her. But she saw only quiet, serene darkness. Nothing moved, and Bubbles held her breath, half expecting the robot to burst from the ground in front of her. It never happened, and Bubbles released the lungful of air she'd been holding in anticipation.

Bubbles looked at her hand, and saw that it was covered in blood. Just as she'd expected.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, shame and guilt clouding her conscience. She then realized she didn't have her bag anymore, and cursing under her breath, she decided that she'd have to let it go. If it was following her, she wouldn't want to walk right back into its path.

Turning, Bubbles began her run home, a new sense of impending doom settling over her. This was something that wasn't going to go away.

***

When Bubbles returned home that night, she was hoping that she'd return to an empty living room, her sisters and the professor turning in for the night. But that was not the case. Blossom was sitting on the couch next to the professor, both of them silent as they went on with their separate activities. Blossom was deeply engrossed in a television program, and the professor was moving his attention from both the TV and to the stack of papers he was grading. They both looked up when Bubbles slammed the door behind her, locking it with a bit more relish than necessary.

"I thought you had to get something-" Blossom started to say, looking at her sister quizzically. Bubbles shook her head quickly, feeling the remains of adrenaline drain from her still amped up system.

"They didn't have what I wanted," Bubbles said thickly, blinking her eyes furiously. She knew that if she wanted to make it seem like nothing was wrong, she wasn't doing a good job at it. But she couldn't shake the tingling nerves from her brain, at least not now. Very dimly, she could feel herself shaking.

"Is something wrong?" Blossom asked, her voice suddenly clouded over with urgency. The professor, who had been marking off answers with a red pen, suddenly looked up at Bubbles. His eyes went wide when he saw her.

"Bubbles, you look like you've just run a marathon," he said, raising his eyebrows. It was true. She did look like she'd been running for hours. Her hair was a mess, her clothes in disarray, and she was covered in a glistening layer of perspiration. What they didn't notice right away, was that the sleeve of her shirt was stained with blood.

"I felt like a jog," she said, taking steps forward, but instantly regretted it. Her ankle gave a quick stab of pain and she cried out involuntarily, her legs buckling beneath her. Instantly, Blossom and the professor were hovering over her, their faces both awash with concern.

"Are you okay?!" Blossom cried, leaning over as the professor bent down to pick Bubbles up. Bubbles tried to shoo him away, but he didn't budge, not when he saw the blood on her arm.

"You're bleeding," he said simply, his voice emotionless. It was almost like he wasn't willing to accept what his eyes were telling him.

"What?! Let me see!" Blossom said suddenly, moving over to get a better look at what the professor was talking about. Bubbles suddenly turned very red and hot with embarrassed anger.

"I just fell, okay! Leave me alone!" and she bolted up to a stand, stumbling as her ankle gave another throb of protest. "I just twisted my ankle, that's all. I was going too fast and I fell, right into a trash can."

Blossom and the professor were looking at her, almost like they didn't quite believe her.

"Stop it! The can shattered okay… I'm fine!" and in an angry huff Bubbles ran up the stairs, leaving Blossom and the Professor standing alone in bewilderment. They wondered if Bubbles was telling the truth, but for now, they had to take her word for it.


	9. Chapter Eight

Heightened Tension- Chapter Eight

It was raining, the drizzling drops hitting the window like pebbles falling to stone. The night sky was clouded over in a blanket of deep gray, casting the city in a dull glow as its shimmering lights reflected off the clouds. Buttercup watched the rain fall from her window, and dimly thought it mirrored her feelings perfectly.

Buttercup was crying, and didn't really understand why. She felt as if a deep shadow had been cast over her heart, and it was slowly draining her of all her sweetest of thoughts. Something was tugging at the very depths of her sanity, just waiting to break her, just wanting to make her feel more and more pain.

But she couldn't stop it, and couldn't figure out how to control it. It was eating away at her soul every day, making her feel more and more desperate with anxiety and torture. She wanted to find something to help her, to make her pain go away. She wanted to stop her fall downwards, and come to a crashing halt.

But she was afraid of what she was thinking, and couldn't quite comprehend where these feelings of weakness had spawned from. It was not in her character to fall victim to her own self pity and fear, but with each passing breath it was growing stronger and more persistent. With each passing day the shadow grew, and made her grow more and more distant from her family.

It was raining, the pattering of the raindrops following Buttercup's own drops of rain as they fell from her eyes. They fell in shiny orbs, and splashed against her folded hands like the raindrops on a Townsville night.

And in the shadows there was a presence that Buttercup could not feel. A malevolent phantom that watched her still form in the window, grinning as he realized his plan was moving just as smoothly as he'd hoped.

***

"Professor, I'm worried about Buttercup."

Blossom sat at the kitchen table a few nights later, where the professor was very carefully going over the newspaper. He looked up at his daughter when she sat down, and saw that her face was the very picture of deep fear.

"What do you mean?" he said, folding the paper and setting it down on the table in front of him. He took the reading glasses from the bridge of his nose and folded them on the table.

"What do you mean, _what do I mean_? Surely you've noticed she's been acting really funny… again…"

"Well, of course I have honey… but… I think maybe she's just stressed-"

"No! Lord knows I've been stressed before, but I certainly don't act like that!" Blossom cried, raising her voice. The professor raised his eyebrows, and Blossom suspected that she was trying his patience.

"There really is no need for you to raise your voice to me, Bloss-"

"I'm sorry," she cut in very quickly. "I just don't feel good about the way she's been acting. She barely eats, she barely speaks… and she only comes out of her room to take the few measly bites of food that she does manage to force down. I swear, if we didn't have to go to school I think we'd only see glimpses of her!"

"Well, have you tried talking to her? She certainly won't talk to me. She just loses her temper with me… and that's why I've given up trying to reason with her," the professor responded. It was true, that ever since the way she'd acted over the summer, he'd treated her mood swings with a lot more caution. Buttercup was very prone to be driven over the edge, and when she was angry, well, she'd already proven that she couldn't control her emotions. She's even come very close to attacking the professor, and would have killed him if Blossom hadn't stepped in at the last moment.

"And you think she'll talk to me? She just pulls my hair out, remember?"

The professor gave a light nod and a soft chuckle.

"Oh yes, I do remember that."

"This isn't funny!"

"I know it isn't Bloss, but believe me, I'm worried about her too. Until she wants to come out with her feelings, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

"I think it's because of me…"

"How so?" the professor asked gravely. Blossom lowered her face to the table and let out a deep sigh. It hurt to talk about it, and it hurt to be so worried over Buttercup.

"She's jealous… I think… of my unique ability…"

"Oh, here we go… Blossom, she'll get over it… she always does-"

"No! This is different! She'd usually just stomp around the house for a few days and grumble about it… but she'd never brooded over it for this long! She's been doing this for over a month! This is much more serious!" Blossom cried, nearly leaping from her seat in exasperation. She could feel tears coming on, and scolded herself for letting her emotions run unchecked.

"Well, she's older now. Maybe she's just taking it differently."

"She's acting like a spoiled brat is what she is!"

"Blossom, now don't talk like that about your sister."

There was silence between them, as Blossom ran over everything in her head. Her sister's adolescent attitude was starting to drain her, and she was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on her studies, and her job as a crime-fighter for that matter. The professor broke her silence, and grabbed her trembling fist to calm her.

"Just try to understand where she's coming from Blossom. You know how emotional she gets over the fact that she doesn't have a unique power."

"Why doesn't she, professor?" Blossom asked, lifting her face to meet the professor's calm gaze. His dark eyes were glistening over with gentle concern.

"I don't know Blossom. Just try to make her feel special, then maybe she'll feel better again. Give it time. I'm sure she'll come around."

"Do you really think she doesn't think she's special? She's a Powerpuff Girl… how could she think that?" Blossom started, feeling her face grow red with shame. If Buttercup was really hurting that badly, she wanted to do something to make it better, but just didn't know how. It was like she was caught in the middle of a dangerous battle and didn't have any sort of strategy to win. Definitely not a desired situation.

"I know honey, but she feels… not as good as you… because when she always sees you in front of the camera and everybody loves you… well, it just makes her feel unneeded…"

Blossom lowered her face again, her shoulders fallen in defeat. She tried to hold back the oncoming anguish, but the professor's very words battered at her pride like nothing she'd ever experienced. Buttercup's damaged psych was all her fault.

"Am I really that terrible, Professor?" she said sadly, blinking her hidden eyes in an attempt to ward of the stinging surge of tears.

"No Blossom. It isn't your fault. Don't ever be ashamed of the gifts that have been given to you… but just try to remember your sister's feelings as well," his voice was so soft and full of condolence, that it made Blossom's heart give a shudder of guilt. "Besides, who knows… maybe she does have something special… but it just hasn't matured yet."

Blossom raised her face to her father and blinked her bleary eyes, giving up on her attempts to stop the emotions that were coursing through her. She let a tear slide down her cheek, and very gently the professor wiped it from her face with the softest of brushes. She gave him a lopsided grin.

"Do you really think so?"

"I suspect so, yes. Maybe it just takes time for her. You know how stubborn she is… well, maybe her powers are stubborn as well."

And Blossom choked out a laugh that betrayed her masked sadness. The professor bowed his head, but kept his eyes raised to her, and smiled, a face that was so full of paternal kindness.

"Just don't shut her out, Blossom. Make her feel special."

"Okay."

Blossom lowered her face again, and began fumbling with her hands on her lap. Sometimes it was just so hard to keep her cool when she dealt with Buttercup. Sometimes she just made her so angry… and she let that anger get in the way. She knew she yelled at Buttercup too much… but she only did it because she cared. She didn't like seeing Buttercup make stupid mistakes that could potentially cost her.

And something else was on her mind, something else she'd been brooding over for a few weeks, but hadn't worked up the courage to ask the professor about it. But seeing his concern and devotion to her and Buttercup that night actually allowed her to find the nerve to ask the question she'd been wanting to ask for a long time.

The professor gave her one last pat on her hand before he stood from the table to take his tea mug to the sink. He had his back to Blossom, and she remained at the table, afraid to look up at him.

"Professor, I have another question," she asked softly, her voice shaking for fear of the reaction she would arouse in him. She kept her eyes to her lap, and watched as her hands continued to fumble for a grasp on each other, seemingly on their own accord.

"Mm hmm?" he mumbled as he washed his hands beneath the faucet. Blossom could feel her palms start to sweat, and the tingle of nerves collecting in the pit of her stomach.

"You told as… that we were really sisters, right?" she asked sheepishly. The professor turned the faucet off, but kept his hand on the handle. He was silent, and almost looked as if he'd frozen on the spot, like a cornered animal would freeze when backed into a situation it couldn't avoid. Blossom continued, her words rushing out in an effort to spill them out as fast as she could.

"Then we came from the same mother right… then that would mean there has to be a _father_… so to speak."

The professor suddenly started moving again, and was wiping his hands down on the towel that hung from the cupboard.

"What brings this on so suddenly?" he asked, his back still turned. It was almost as if he was also avoiding looking at her.

"Well… er- we were talking about reproduction in Health… and everyone started looking at me… it was awful…" Blossom said, her voice a little bit louder than before.

The professor finally turned, and leaned against the counter. He was looking at Blossom, and expression of unwarranted anger on his face. Blossom thought that he was mad at her.

"Now why would they do that?"

"Because… Princess… she asked Mr. Chamberlain a question… about us… and asked how it was possible to be born without parents… she said it made us… illegitimate-"

"And what did your teacher say?" the Professor asked heatedly, his face growing very closed as he folded his arms across his chest. Blossom was afraid to continue, not wanting to instill his rage.

"He… agreed."

"WHAT?!"

Blossom flinched back in her seat at his outburst. The professor had done a complete one-eighty. This was not the same comforting man she'd talked to just moments before.

"I… I… well, I didn't say anything. Everyone started looking at me… and I just looked down at my desk and didn't say anything for the rest of the period. I left as quickly as could when the bell rang."

"Do you remember what I told you? Why did you not defend yourself?!"

"I DON'T KNOW! I can't exactly tell everyone the truth! They still all think we appeared out of nowhere!"

The professor put his head in his hands and didn't say anything. Blossom could feel her pulse rising as her self-defense mechanism started to kick in. She might as well just ask him now, he was already angry enough as it was.

"Then, who is our dad?" she spluttered, halting on her words as if just saying it was a challenging task. The professor raised his face and stared, his face nothing like she wanted to see. He almost looked offended, or looked as if some sort of unreadable emotion was fighting to be let out.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, his tone of voice noticeably calmer than before.

"Well…" she started, wondering how she was going to phrase her words without sounding odd. "Embryos only have one set of chromosomes… the whole point of a father is to provide an embryo… with the right amount…" she stuttered, trying hard not to sound overly forward, but failed miserably.

The professor only shook his head fiercely in annoyance, and moved away from the counter as if he was about to leave the room.

"This really isn't the best time to talk about this-" he started, leaving for the doorway in a hurry. Blossom leapt from her set and grabbed his forearm hastily, possibly with a bit more strength than she needed. He halted in his tracks, and suddenly turned to face her, and Blossom almost feared he'd strike her for daring to grab him with so much power.

"Let me go," was all he said, and she finally understood why he was so angry. It was the same shameful attitude that he always reserved for the subject of where they really came from.

"You can't run away from this forever professor, sooner or later we'll find out," Blossom said seriously, loosening her tightened grip on the professor's arm. She kept her face even, and ignored the lingering remnants of her sadness that still played across her face. "Who is it?"

The professor's face changed, and he cast his eyes down in an effort to hide his betraying expression. Blossom already feared that she knew the answer, and knew the reason why he feared to speak of it. He wasn't their real dad, and all this time of happiness and bonding as father and children was a lie.

"Blossom… why do you think I grew to care for you three so much?"

And he didn't have to say anymore, because Blossom realized that her regretful suspicions were the only lies between them.


	10. Chapter Nine

****

Tiny Tinker: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you like the intro. However, there's one glaring flaw in your reasoning. Being the hard core PPG fan that I am, of course I'm aware that they're six… IN THE SHOW. However, my stories take place in their future, therefore, I write them as being older. Make sense?

Heightened Tensions- Chapter Nine

October rain was drizzling outside of the biology lab window, and the dull gray of the early morning was just starting to brighten with fresh sunlight. Blossom sat at her desk, with her chin resting on her hand, her mind barely focused on the professor who was standing at the front of the room.

The morning announcements were over, and the professor slapped his hands together in barely controlled excitement. He was grinning like a school-kid.

"All right then, you'll never guess what you get to do today," he said to the class, noting the fact that at least 80% of them were still partially asleep. He looked around eagerly, and his gaze fell on Buttercup, who had her head down on her desk in the back of the room. He went silent for a second, before grabbing a wad of paper off of Blossom's desk. The class watched him in silent anticipation, some of the students barely able to stifle their audible giggles.

The professor hurled the wad of crumpled paper, and it smacked against Buttercup's stooped over head, causing her to fling her head up in startled anger. She realized who had thrown it at her, and she cast an angry glare at the professor, who was smiling at her casually.

"Alright then," he continued, completely pushing aside what had just happened. "You guys are really lucky today… because the administration has allowed me to do something really cool."

Of course, the class didn't believe him, because how often was it that the teacher and the class met eye to eye when it concerned with what was cool. Nobody seemed any more interested then they would have normally been, except for Blossom and Bubbles, who conveniently knew what he was talking about.

"_You_ are going to get the chance to work with Chemical X today-"

And the class exploded in a noisy uproar, all of the kids shrieking to each other with unsuppressed excitement. This naturally wasn't that big of a deal to Blossom and Bubbles, or to Buttercup for that matter. They dealt with Chemical X all the time.

And the professor shooed them all to the back of the classroom, and didn't have to tell them twice. The kids were nearly leaping over each other to get a good spot at the low table in the middle of the lab areas, where the professor was going to show them the chemical. There was a very large bottle of the black, oily fluid sitting on the middle of the table, along with various other instruments that were used for measuring frequencies and concentrations

"Now, we're going to study it in its various frequencies, and I'm going to want you to note how it changes in appearance as the concentrations and levels change…" the professor started lecturing as he started handing out safety goggles to all of the students. Blossom tuned him out, realizing this was all old news to her, and slipped her way over to where Buttercup was standing. She had found a spot as far away from Blossom as possible, but she wasn't going to let that discourage her.

"Hey," Blossom said quietly, moving in close next to Buttercup. Buttercup glanced over at her quickly, but then turned away.

Blossom had taken to heart what the professor had told her weeks ago, and ever since then she'd been trying time and again to involve Buttercup in anything they did. She'd initiated video game contests (and had let Buttercup win intentionally), pillow fights, cookie baking, and had even asked Buttercup to be partners with her a few times. At first, Blossom had thought she was breaking through Buttercup's strong barriers of defense, because Buttercup would always tag along and would agree to do whatever Blossom had asked. Despite that, and despite all of Blossom's attempts at making her feel loved and important, Buttercup physical condition didn't seem to be improving. That also meant that Blossom wasn't get anywhere with her emotionally either, and that had just occurred to her within the last week. Buttercup was getting even thinner than before, and her face had become so gaunt and sickly that some people were starting to say that she was going through a bout of anorexia. The rumors even flew that she had become a drug addict, and despite all of Blossom and Bubbles's attempts to halt these rumors where they started, the word always flew back to Buttercup, who took it with a silent reserve that she'd never had before.

It was even worse at home. Her energy was the lowest it had ever been, and she always seemed to look tired and weak whenever they did manage to see her. Buttercup would stay in her room, and even though she would come down to eat, she'd barely touch her food. She'd just swirl it around her plate for a few minutes, take a few bites and then leave it on the table nearly untouched. She'd leave the room, and would leave the rest of the family sitting there silently, exchanging worried glances between one-another with one question on their minds. Should they do something to stop this?

But for some reason they didn't, something in the back of their minds trying to win them over with the thought that she was just going through a phase, and would snap out of it any day now. But the days went by with no change, and the shimmer in her emerald eyes got duller with each passing day. This was not the Buttercup they were accustomed too.

"You're working with me, whether you like it or not," Blossom whispered, and Buttercup shrugged casually. She didn't really seem to care all that much.

They moved over to their usual lab table, with Bubbles and her partner Dexter on the other side. Bubbles was staring at the table top, her gaze unfaltering and dead as if she was deeply engrossed in her own thoughts. Dexter was next to her, tinkering with one of the instruments.

Blossom kept her eye on Buttercup as she came up beside her at the table. Buttercup's hands were folded on the countertop, and her eyes were shut lazily with her head bowed. Ever since the first day of school she'd become very quiet in the class, and she avoided looking around her less she lose her control again like she did on that first day. None of the students in the class could quite figure out what had happened. Instead, they'd just pushed it aside as if it was something that happened every day, but it still weighed down heavily on her family. None of them really knew what Buttercup was going through, but instead of really discussing it, they'd only shushed it quiet like a bad rumor.

She was ringing her hands nervously, a habit which she'd required over the duration of her sudden change in psychosis. They were pale and thin, and she'd let her nails grow to ungodly lengths. It was like she'd suddenly stopped caring about her appearance, and despite her attempts to at least look decent, people could at least tell that she'd started to look as if she just fell into a set of clothes in the morning.

Blossom moved her gaze away and looked back at Bubbles, who was in the same position she'd been in five minutes ago. What was wrong with her family? Was she the only one who wasn't going insane?

_But don't forget who you've been chatting with…_

She looked around her nervously as if afraid that the people around her could read her very thoughts. She'd been keeping it secret, all her meetings with Him, and it was still so baffling to her how her sisters hadn't even noticed Him's presence around. Maybe he was shielding himself with the knowledge that they could sense him, but even so, he seemed pretty careless whenever he was with her. It was like he purposely did things to annoy her, cavorting around her room like he suddenly owned the place, and she found herself raising her voice a good majority of the times he came around (which was just about every night). Bubbles had noticed something was up the first night, but ever since then she hadn't said a word about hearing Blossom "talking to herself". Either she didn't hear it anymore (maybe he had something to do with that), or maybe she genuinely thought that Blossom had developed the habit of screaming at herself to stay out of her drawers. Not that that was any better.

She was fed up with herself for becoming so comfortable around him so quickly. But, ever since the first night where he'd seemed as if he was more interested in her physically, he hadn't done anything else in that respect. There were no more awkward advances or moments of tense pressure between them, and Blossom really wasn't too disappointed. Yet, she'd gotten to the point where every night she expected him to come around, and found herself almost disappointed if he was later than normal. Did she really think of him as a friend? They did spend an awful lot of time, just _talking_.

So perhaps she wasn't guiltless of changing like her sisters. There was something up with all of them, and it was starting to get frustrating.

Dexter suddenly shot up from his leaning position on the table, and turned to Bubbles, grabbing her arm quickly.

"Go get some of the Xant-"

But he barely even finished his sentence before he was completely halted by Bubbles, who jumped spastically and let out a small scream of surprise. This in turn made Buttercup jump as well, and almost made Blossom spill her beaker of Xantium all over the counter.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Dexter said apologetically, his eyebrows furrowed as he regarded Bubbles with intense concentration. She had her hand on her chest and was panting heavily.

"No no, I was- er- thinking of something else!"

"Bubbles? Have you been drinking too much coffee?" Blossom asked angrily, readjusting the goggles that sat on the bridge of her nose.

"No! I don't drink coffee-"

"Well, you've been acting like you're in the middle of a war-"

Dexter was watching both of them strangely as Bubbles screwed up her face in defense. Blossom didn't even look up from her tasks as she continued to harass her sister.

"I am not!"

"Yes you are, you act like you're super high-strung, and you freak out whenever anyone touches you or walks up behind you. What's the deal?"

"I'm fine!"

"Then why are you acting like someone's stalking you? You've been coming home late, and every time you look like you've been sprinting for hours."

Bubbles suddenly went very red and her face fell. She didn't say anything else after that, but just looked down at the table furiously.

"Um, she's right. You seem a bit tense lately-" Dexter said hesitantly, simultaneously backing a few steps away from Bubbles, whose face had suddenly twisted into a snarl.

"How about a little less questions, and a lot more SHUT THE HELL UP!" she roared angrily, and then stomped away and grabbed the hall pass from the front table before she left the room in an angry huff. Blossom sighed heavily and looked up at Dexter, who was staring at the door. Buttercup was snickering under he breath.

"Since when did she start swearing?" Dexter said wearily, his face showing that he felt somewhat hurt and offended. Bubbles never yelled at anyone, and when she did, it always left the _victim_ very shocked and emotionally wounded.

"Sorry, she's been even worse at home. Don't take it personal." Blossom said apologetically, looking Dexter straight in the eye.

"Well, I know, but I wish she'd say what's wrong. If she's trying to hide something she isn't doing a very good job."

"No, I suspect she's just scared, of what I don't know, but I think she's been getting into some tough fights around town. What worries me is that she doesn't bother to ask us for help, but tries to handle whatever she'd getting into on her own," Blossom said frankly, elbowing Buttercup to break her out of her watery daze.

"Well, how do you know if she hasn't said anything?"

"Just a hunch I guess. She came home bleeding one night, and ever since then she's been coming home a lot looking like a complete mess. She sort of avoids the whole issue, and did in fact tell us once that she ran into Mojo. Other than that, we don't know. She's being too secretive. When we do manage to get her to talk, she gets really defensive and yells."

"Bubble-head just doesn't want to be made fun of," Buttercup said suddenly, surprising the two of them into silence. It was probably the first full sentence she'd strung together in a long time.

Blossom smiled lightly. "I wonder where she gets it from-"

"And what is that supposed to mean?!" Buttercup shrieked, but the overall thinness of her voice hampered the entire effect.

"Her stand-offishness. She certainly doesn't get it from me," Blossom said, plugging the electron reader into an outlet on the lab table's island.

"Well, at least some of me has rubbed off on her…" Buttercup said, and her thinned face suddenly brightened into the first smile Blossom had seen for weeks. Blossom regarded her calmly, her own expression a mixture of surprised gratitude and happiness. Maybe she was getting somewhere. 

Buttercup almost immediately noticed her staring, and cast her eyes down in embarrassment. Blossom blushed, ashamed, knowing that she'd made her fragile sister uncomfortable.

"What?" Buttercup said in a halting, exasperated voice. Blossom looked down at the beaker full of Chemical X and blinked a few times, watching the oily swirls move about inside the glass.

"It's just so nice to see you smile… again…"

"Don't read to much into it. I'm just worried about Bubbles. I still hate you," Buttercup said very matter-of-factly, but Blossom thought she saw the hint of a smirk on her sister's face. Blossom grabbed Buttercup's hand and squeezed, wincing inwardly at the feel of her sister's knobby fingers. Buttercup didn't return the gesture, but she didn't really refuse it either, which all together made Blossom feel better. 

Blossom let her head casually slip sideways and fall against Buttercup's shoulder. She let it rest there, and narrowed her eyes softly as she felt the noticeable lack of meat on her sister. Buttercup didn't squirm away, which was what she would have normally done, but she flinched lightly as Blossom's cheek fell against her collar bone. For some reason, her depression had almost made her more gentle, which was better, except for the fact that it was also eating away at her from the inside.

"All right, that's enough, get off me." Buttercup said coolly, and she jabbed her shoulder up in an attempt to knock Blossom away. Blossom just giggled brightly, and felt her insides grow butterflies of content as she told herself that her sister was getting better.

Blossom looked back at Dexter, who seemed to already be deeply involved in his own experiment. He kept looking back at the door, as if expecting Bubbles to come waltzing back in.

"She'll come back," Blossom said, and she saw him nod, a small frown on his face. She dimly wondered if it was possible that he liked her sister…

But that was thrown from her mind as the class was suddenly silenced by a faint, high-pitched, ringing bell that had started to sound off from somewhere in the classroom. Everyone went suddenly silent, listening to the steady pulses of electronic tone as they sounded off some kind of alarm. Blossom froze, her head cocked to the side as it registered in her brain what it was. 

The Hotline.


	11. Chapter Ten

Heightened Tensions- Chapter Ten

The girls stood in front of a towering white structure, surrounded by the glowing, rotating lights of the squad cars. From inside, they could hear the cries of the civilians in their panic, and all around them, the armed officers were tense and waiting. The three of them stood in a line, staring into the hazed double doors of the city bank, none of their faces betraying any sort of fear. They were used to this.

Mojo was inside, doing what he did best; robbing the bank. Lord only knew why he still robbed the same bank time and again, and one had to wonder why the managers hadn't decided to amp up their security. Then again, the citizens of Townsville had never been the sharpest tools in the shed.

One of the officers, poised behind his car's door in a crouch, gun trained on the glass doors of the bank, turned to look at the girls. His face was awash with mortal terror, the same dread that graced everyone's face when Mojo made an appearance. Blossom mused that in their sheer naivety, Townsville had no idea what real evil was. They had never experienced it like she had.

She nodded to the officer, who was obviously motioning for them to go inside and deal with Mojo, just by the nature of his suggestive glance. She motioned with her head to Buttercup and Bubbles, who both looked wholeheartedly uninterested.

After Blossom had answered the call, her and Buttercup had ran from the biology room to find Bubbles, who had stuffed herself in the girl's bathroom on the second floor. Needless to say she hadn't been too pleased to see them, thinking they were just there to bug her.

"For the love of God!! Leave me alone!"

Blossom shook her head, momentarily aggravated by her sister's increased sense of confrontation.

"No. Mojo… we gotta go."

And she hadn't needed to say another word, because Bubbles's face suddenly changed into one of utter rage. Blossom had been stunned momentarily by the sheer look of murder that had suddenly flared up in her eyes… thinking she'd never seen it in her blue-eyed sister before. But, after a few moments, and after they'd all set off together, Blossom had realized it had just been her aggravation showing through. Nothing more.

And they had left the school, taking off in a blind mix of running and leaping through the skyline of Townsville to their destination. They still weren't quite used to their lack of flying ability, something that was taking quite some time to get over now that they actually had to use their skills again.

They had been around twelve years old and living in their former residence at the time. Like normal, they'd become accustomed to floating and zipping around the house, using their various powers in any way that they could be. However, in the city, they'd been completely forbidden by the professor to show any trace of super-human abilities, and while they grumbled about it for a while, they knew it was for the best. Especially after they found out what exactly they were hiding from.

Then all at once things started to fall apart. One Saturday afternoon Buttercup had been chasing Bubbles around the house, the two of them darting and swooping throughout the rooms in a very enthusiastic game of tag. Suddenly Bubbles had crashed to a halt on the floor, complaining of a sudden burst of weakness that had surprised her enough into screaming. The professor and Blossom had been in the room instantly to see what was wrong, and they'd found Bubbles lying on the ground, Buttercup hovering over her with concern. 

After they'd learned what had happened they'd attributed it to nothing more than perhaps stress. After all, the three of them had just started showing the budding signs of leaving their adolescence. The professor merely assured them their fluctuated hormones would cause surges and dips in their powers, and that as soon as they were finished growing into young women it would all return to normal.

But it hadn't. Soon, all three of them were complaining of feeling woozy in the air, and after a while it became too much trouble to even bother floating at all. So they'd stopped entirely, with some degree of resistance and tears. It was Buttercup who had finally reached the discovery that their gift of flight had fizzled out entirely, after falling from the air entirely during one last painful try.

That had been a day of bizarre, painful emotion. It was definitely something that had been difficult for them to cope with, because flying had become an important part of their lives from day one. It was almost like having a limb amputated; losing a part of yourself that was so connected, that nothing would ever replace it.

But after a while they'd gotten used to it, and had learned that their muscle power and jumping ability had increased to compensate for it. They'd learned to live with it, but every once in a while, all three of them still felt the pains of loss, knowing that their abilities would never be the same.

They had managed to arrive at the bank in record time, and without needing to fly. Their speed and knack for jumping over the buildings more than made up for that handicap. 

The three of them walked up to the doors, and Blossom threw them open forcefully. They entered, and instantly were met with the chaos. Mojo had all the civilians backed up against the far wall, and he was waving a ray gun through the air wildly.

Some of the hostages cried out with joy when they saw the girls, causing Mojo to turn his attention to his backside. He grinned wickedly at them, turning his body around to face them. His gaze fell on Bubbles, and his eyes narrowed most maliciously.

"Hello Powerpuff Bubbles… I trust you've been doing well… nothing particularly stressful in your life?" his voice was so smooth and icy, as he flashed Bubbles a toothy simian grin. She suddenly flared up in rage.

"GO TO HELL MOJO!"

Mojo looked completely taken aback, his face awash with gentle surprise as he took on step backwards, overpowered by her outburst. Blossom turned to Bubbles suddenly, surprised by both her sudden use of profanity, and by the fact that she had no idea what Mojo was alluding to. It almost seemed as if Mojo had meant something, but judging by Buttercup's bland expression, she wasn't too sure either.

Mojo laughed, a bellowing cackle that they'd heard at least a thousand times before. Yet this time, it seemed even more full of malice and self-satisfaction than usual.

"Enough crap, why are you even bothering with these kinds of places anyway?" Blossom questioned angrily, feeling her patience already beginning to drain from her. This bank-robbing business had gotten so horribly trite it was almost annoying.

"Enough talking! I have you now in the open! No longer in a place where you are sheltered and closed off!" Mojo bellowed, waving the ray gun wildly through the air. Blossom's gaze shifted to the group of people who were still huddled together behind the deranged simian. She had to get them out, before Mojo did anything stupid.

"Buttercup, take care of the hostages… when we attack…" she whispered, leaning herself over to speak in her sister's ear. Buttercup nodded stiffly in understanding.And before Mojo could begin another rant, Blossom gave Bubbles a split second glance, motioning to Mojo. The communication between them was clear. This had become such routine for them, words were almost unneeded.

"Hey Mojo!" Bubbles cried, drawing his attention towards her.

"What!?" He barked, lowering the ray gun to his side. 

"Wanna' know what stress really feels like, you slobbering piece of shi-" and as she was finishing her sentence she kicked off from the ground, launching herself into Mojo's path with the accuracy of a homing missile. He didn't have time to react, but instead went rigid as Bubbles streaked towards him, a blur of glowing blue.

At the same time Blossom moved, attempting to circle around Mojo from behind to apprehend him. She shifted her attention just long enough to see Buttercup grabbing the hostages, and turned back to Mojo, who was currently attempting to fight Bubbles off with multiple blasts from his ray gun.

She had him firmly by his throat, her arm wrapped around his neck, and her drastic increase in height giving her an advantage. Blossom moved in from behind, intending to deliver a knock out blow, but something happened very suddenly that threw the whole plan into an uproar.

There was a sudden deafening roar of crumbling stone as one of the massive marble pillars suddenly collapsed. Bubbles shrieked, getting caught off guard as it fell just mere feet away from her body. In that moment, while Bubbles's guard had been down, Mojo took it upon himself to take a very generous mouthful from her shifted arm.

Blossom cowered back as Bubbles screamed painfully, and in her weakness Mojo managed to get the upper hand. He grabbed Bubbles firmly around the waist and twisted her around, throwing her through the air right into Blossom. She didn't have time to move as Bubbles's body came hurtling towards her, finally smashing them both onto the ground in a spray of broken marble tile.

"No! He's getting away!" Blossom cried, still trying to untangle her body on the floor. She spun her gaze around, searching for Buttercup, and finally found her, just standing two feet from the dusty base of the crumbled pillar, her eyes wide with shock as if she'd just done something stupid.

"BUTTERCUP!"

But it was too late. Mojo was gone. They'd let him get away.

Thankfully, nobody had been hurt, but that was the least of Blossom's troubles. They'd let Mojo get away, and it was very clearly Buttercup's fault.

"Why did you just stand there?! Are you that stupid?!" She said angrily, pacing back and forth in front of her two sisters. They were both leaning against the hood of a police car, Bubbles massaging her swollen forearm and Buttercup staring back at Blossom with an air of defiance.

Blossom rubbed her head where she hit the ground, and glared into Buttercup's hard green stare. She ignored the commotion around her, the squad of news vehicles, the lingering hostages trying get in last words of gratitude to their heroes, curious bystanders, and the remaining police who were hanging around to take the report.

Buttercup didn't say anything, but her stare stayed firm. And at this moment, Blossom confirmed her own suspicions that her sister was sick, both mentally and physically. Something had to be done, because it was affecting their performance. Why had Buttercup frozen up like that? She'd acted as if she'd caused the pillar to fall herself… the way her eyes had been so wide and her body so rigid…

"You seriously need help…. L-look at you! You're a mess!"

Bubbles raised her eyes to Blossom, her face a look of agreement, but she didn't say anything. Buttercup's breathing had increased noticeably, and Blossom could tell by the frequent rising and falling of her shoulders that she was about to burst.

"You froze up! Why did you freeze like that?! You never do that!! What happened!?"

Buttercup suddenly leapt up and met Blossom in the face, her sunken eyes level with her sister's heated gaze.

"That's none of your goddamned business… we can't all be perfect like you…" she breathed, and in a whirl of black hair Buttercup spun around and stomped off, a pouty trek in the opposite direction down the street..

"I'm not perfect!! Where are you going?!" Blossom cried, and she started off to follow Buttercup, but felt a very sudden tugging at her arm. She turned, and met Bubbles's watery gaze.

"Um… maybe… I better do it… You might just make things worse at this point…"

And Blossom figured she was right. She nodded in agreement, and relaxed her arm to signal to Bubbles that she could let go. Bubbles let her sister's arm fall, and she shook her head casually.

"What do you suppose really happened? It's almost like what happened with that water jar… she did… something… but doesn't seem to realize it at all…"

Blossom looked down at the pavement and kicked at a pebble, watching it bounce across the pavement and come to a rest at the wheel of a squad car. She shrugged, and let out a huge sigh.

"I don't know… but we need to figure out what's wrong with her. Her powers are going out of control. Something's going on that she obviously is having trouble keeping stable…"

Bubbles didn't respond, but her attention was suddenly diverted to the city skyline. Blossom looked at her sister quizzically, studying Bubbles's very wide-eyed stare as she watched _something_ up in the skyscrapers. Blossom peered upwards, hoping to figure out what Bubbles was seeing… but she saw absolutely nothing.

"Bubbles?" Blossom asked quietly, waving her hand in front of her sister's face. Bubbles didn't even blink.

"Now I understand what Mojo meant… he wanted us out in the open… that's why he didn't take any money…" Bubbles said tonelessly, her gaze still tracking something in the sky. Blossom watched her incredulously, not sure of what to make out of her sister's suddenly spacey attitude.

"Um… what?"

Blossom did finally realize that Bubbles was right about one thing… Mojo hadn't taken any money at all. She'd been too pissed off over Buttercup to realize it.

Then, what had he been doing there?

"He wanted us out in the city so I- err- we could be found-"

"You're starting to scare me-"

"Never mind, I have to find Buttercup. She can't be alone."

And Bubbles turned and ran in the direction Buttercup had gone, her face still turned up to the sky, leaving Blossom all alone and bewildered.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 11

It had almost seemed as if Buttercup had disappeared off the face of the earth. Bubbles had been running through the streets for what seemed like twenty-minutes, and just couldn't find her black-haired sister. Wherever she was, she wanted to be hidden.

Bubbles skidded to a stop next to an empty construction site, leaning her body over in an effort to catch her breath. This street was strangely deserted, and for some reason everything had gone deathly quiet. She could barely even hear the sounds of traffic coming from the busy street that lay in front of her.

She jerked her head up towards the sky, trying to catch some sort of glimpse of Mojo's robot, the one that had been chasing her for weeks. She'd seen it while she had been standing with Blossom, its scarce form barely hidden among the tops of the skyscrapers, but she could see it none the less. Blossom hadn't seen it, but then again, she hadn't known what she would have been looking for.

Bubbles had suspected that was the reason why Mojo had even been in the bank. He wanted to get them out of school, away from the crowded nature of a school building, so that they'd be more out in the open… so that it would be easier for the robot to find her. Mojo did know it was after her, and he was doing anything he could to make sure it met its ultimate objective. He wanted this thing to stay elusive, he wanted it to stay a secret, so he had taken steps to make sure the general public didn't become aware of this monstrosity. 

Before, it had only seemed to happen at night, the beast lurching out at her from the shadows only when she'd happened to be alone. What was strange, is that it always seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and always seemed to know exactly where she was… almost like it was tracking her.

The robot, which she'd given a name in order to bring some sort of sense to the situation, was called X in reference to the possibility that it was powered by the same chemical that ran through her own veins. Bubbles didn't really know exactly what made it tick, but found that she didn't really care. She'd given up fighting it, having only found herself wounded all the times she'd tried the first few instances it had showed its hollow face.

At first she hadn't known what to feel. The first nights she'd run into it, always in the most awkward of places on quiet streets, she'd been too confused to really feel any sort of emotion. Afterwards, once she was finished with her panicked flight in the opposite direction, she'd be too full of adrenaline to even be scared.

But then things had started to get worse, and had gotten more violent. This machine, whatever it was, was starting to get more daring when it attacked her. Bubbles was also starting to find out that it was much faster, and a lot more agile than it looked. That was when she'd started getting scared, really scared, mixed with an overwhelming fear of anger an annoyance.

It was the fact that she didn't know what it was, and didn't know what it was really capable of. She did however, know that it could kill her, bearing witness to several deep battle wounds and scratches that she'd had to hide from her family.

Her family still didn't know what was going on, but she knew that they suspected something wrong. Bubbles was fully aware that she was acting very out of the ordinary. She'd gotten snappy, and jumpy, and it was starting to seem as if she'd taken over Buttercup's role in the family as the grouchy bitch. Bubbles just couldn't control herself, but this whole business with her friend X was putting her on edge, and in a constant sense of panic that she couldn't express to anyone on the outside. She was angry, angry because she'd been reduced to a coward, and angry at the machine that was putting her life through hell. Not to mention the fact that she really wanted to strangle Mojo.

It was tracking her. It always seemed to know where she was as if it was following her scent. She didn't know how, but it was a bloodhound, searching out its master's prize; her.

Bubbles scanned the bony shells of the half-completed buildings that loomed over her. She sensed it, she knew it was up there. _Just show yourself…_

And her prayers were answered, and there was a defined shriek as Bubbles felt something massive slam into the ground behind her. She spun, throwing her arms up in preparation for some sort of attack, and nearly screamed as X took shape in front of her. Its body lifted from a crouch, its metallic form unfolding like a beast rising to a stand. She hadn't seen it… _Where had it come from?_

Bubbles backed off, shaking her head in disbelief, her reaction to every encounter. She felt the tears gathering in her eyes, and the sickening fear gathering in the pit of her stomach. The shame and anger boiling away inside of her, alerting her mind to the fact that once again she had to run… she had to get away and stay alive…

In its characteristic, wordless demeanor, it lifted one massive arm, its strange, claw-like hand reaching towards her as if she would walk right into its grasp. But Bubbled wouldn't, she knew what she had to do, but felt all the worse for doing it.

She turned and fled, taking off in the opposite direction, hoping to god that it wouldn't follow her. But at that point she didn't care… she would worry about the potential danger to innocents when the time came… this monster didn't seemed too interested in hurting other people, only her, and that was the only reason why she felt okay to run towards the street in front of her. _Mojo wants this to stay hidden…_

And sure enough, X didn't run after her. She merely sensed it leap from its spot on the ground, latch onto a ledge of one of the buildings, and disappear into the jungle of rooftops of the city. It was going to follow her, but it was going to follow her from above, and was going to attack when it felt the timing was right.

Bubbles veered onto the busy street, scattering clumps of startled people as she ran through them, not really seeing where she was going. At this point, she didn't know where she intended to go, and was just hoping that maybe she could lose it somewhere along the way… but something told her that was doubtful.

She wasn't watching where she was going. Her eyes were scanning the sky, and only darted around things the corners of her vision could catch. Then-

_SLAM!_

"WAAAH!"

"OOF!"

Bubbles crashed to the pavement, twisted around the body of some person she'd crashed into, some person who she hadn't seen. As she hit the ground, jarring her scrapped up elbow on the concrete, she felt her anger burst.

"WHY DON'T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!?" she bellowed, trying to pull herself up, but found her legs tangled up in the legs of some other person, some other girl.

"You ran into _me_, Bubble-brain," the voice was harsh and angry, and Bubbles finally realized that she knew that voice all too well.

"Buttercup!"

"What?!" she sounded completely harassed and irritated.

"I found you!"

"I can see that, you moron… why don't you watch where you're going. When you don't look where you're running, you're bound to hit something…"

"I…" Bubbles started, feeling slightly ashamed that she'd gotten angry, without realizing that it had been her who'd caused the collision in the first place.

"Get off me… people are staring…" Buttercup said harshly, pushing Bubbles's body away from her. Indeed, many people were standing, staring at the two of them on the ground like they were animals in the zoo. 

"You can't honestly tell me you were in that big of a hurry just to find me…"

"Well, I was…"

"But you were looking up. Surely you didn't think I'd be flying?"

Bubbles looked at her sister hesitantly, who was now standing and dusting her nobly knees from the crash. Bubbles remained on the ground, her better judgment to tell someone battling with her own pride to keep her cowardice hidden.

"I… thought maybe you'd be up there…"

"You're lying."

"I am not!" Bubbles responded tartly, leaping up from the pavement. Buttercup started walking in the opposite direction, not even giving Bubbles a second glance. 

"Where are you going?!" Bubbles wailed. "We have to go back to school!"

"Screw school. We've already been excused for the day-"

"STOP!" and Bubbles suddenly lashed out and snatched Buttercup's arm, halting her sister in her tracks. Buttercup froze, and looked at Bubbles, her green eyes flaring over with an offended fire. Bubbles let go of her arm and moved to stand next to her, keeping her eyes locked with her sister.

"We need to talk."

And Buttercup rolled her eyes, turning away from Bubbles in an attempt to maneuver out of the situation.

"There's nothing to talk about-"

"Why are you shoving this under the rug like it's no big deal?! You're sick, Buttercup! You need help!"

"I am NOT sick… and I don't NEED anybody's help. Just leave me alone-"

"But if we leave you alone you're only going to get worse! We're worried about you, and we're scared that you're letting yourself waste away. You don't talk, you don't eat, you don't-"

"Fine! I get the picture!"

"Buttercup… I'm serious… That's why I followed you… without Blossom."

Buttercup snorted in distaste, and turned her eyes forward. A scowl spread across her face that was unmistakable.

"See! You have some serious issues with her that you guys really need to sort out-"

"Oh, and I suppose you're gonna' be my shrink?"

"No. I'm _trying_ to be someone you can talk to. I don't like it when you two fight."

"She doesn't seem to care-"

"That isn't true and you know it!"

They kept walking, and Bubbles momentarily forgot about X, her only real concern being her sister. Bubbles did feel safer when surrounded by people, and found that her mind had drifted off to more important matters now that she was with her sister. They were moving closer to the Downtown area of Townsville, and in a block or so would be in the Megalon Shopping District.

It was a large portion of Townsville, about7 blocks in length, lined with shops that carried all the latest trends in both clothing and merchandising. You could buy almost anything, you could do almost anything, and it was a frequent tourist spot for many people who came into Townsville on vacation. It was surrounded by some of the tallest skyscrapers, lined with blinking, flashy billboards advertising the latest in commercial products, and the streets were always bustling with shoppers and the mascots that stood outside their stores to bring the buyers in. It was the busiest place in Townsville, and was also the biggest target for villains.

Buttercup and Bubbles walked towards it, moving smoothly through the crowd, blending in with the normal citizens of Townsville. Hardly anyone was giving them a second glance as they went about their business, and Bubbles felt that was just as well, seeing as they were having a fairly private conversation.

"She's been doing everything to make sure you don't become a ghost. She's tried to keep you involved in the family…"

Buttercup didn't say anything, and she was looking at the ground, dragging her feet with her fists shoved into the front pocket of her hoodie.

"I'm just tired of feeling alone…" Buttercup said, her tone much softer than before. Beneath her words Bubbles could read an emotion that was much more intense and painful than what Buttercup was letting on.

"But- why would you think that? You're not alone…"

"You don't see it… but I do… I'm an outcast…"

"You're not an outcast…"

"I am! And nobody sees it but me!"

"But you're the only one who sees it, because you're the only one who thinks it's true!"

"I'm not important to you guys… I never was-"

"You're being ridiculous. Of course you're important."

They both stopped and Bubbles looked at her with her eyes full of empathy and concern. If this was really the root of Buttercup's problem, then something had to be done. She had to tell Blossom, and she had to tell the professor, but she knew that Buttercup would not give this information freely if she knew that Bubbles was going to blab.

"Look. You're just as important as we are… I mean… so what if you don't have anything unique… that doesn't make any of _us_ better than you…"

But perhaps Bubbles had chosen the wrong words, because Buttercup's face snapped in her direction, and Bubbles was surprised to see that her eyes were red and glistening over with tears.

"Did I say something wrong?" Bubbles asked mournfully, hurt, unsure if she should apologize. Unsure if she'd even said anything hurtful at all. Buttercup just shook her head angrily and closed her eyes.

"You just don't understand how it feels… I'm losing my mind, My powers are going crazy… I'm falling apart… and then I see you guys so happy… and composed…"

"What?!" Bubbles said incredulously. "Composed?! Hardly! I can't even keep my temper with the professor anymore… ever since that-"

Buttercup's eyes suddenly widened in alarm, and Bubbles realized that she'd said too much.

"What?!"

"Nothing."

"No, you were going to say something."

"It's nothing."

"No. You said yourself you have problems too. Now, what is it?"

"Really, it's-"

"You do realize that you're starting to act like me."

And Bubbles pursed her lips, scrunching her brows while she tried to think, trying to sort out exactly what she'd tell Buttercup without sounding too stupid. She definitely didn't want to be compared to her green-eyed sister.

"Well… okay…"

"I told you my problem… now you tell me yours…"

"But Buttercup, I know you're hiding something else-"

"That isn't important anymore. I'm more worried about you."

Bubbles started walking again, casting her eyes downward awkwardly.

"You're actually worried about _me_?"

"Of course I am," Buttercup said shortly, moving to join Bubbles in their stroll down the sidewalk. Bubbles was momentarily distracted by a shop window full of flashing electronics, but then she finally turned back to Buttercup, biting her lip nervously.

"Do you remember when we were in that department store… er- the professor was buying a new microwave?"

Buttercup snorted, "How could I forget? Red was really pissed off that day."

Bubbles sighed reproachfully and raised her eyes, shrugging it off.

"Yes, but that isn't the point of what I'm saying… I'm talking about Mojo's robot."

"That tin can? What about it?"

Bubbles crewed up her face in anger, partially offended by the off-handed way Buttercup regarded the being that was now trying to kill her.

"Well, that _tin can_ is back… and its been following _me_!"

"Come again?"

"The reason I come home late every night! The reason why I can't even talk to the professor anymore without screaming at him! It has me on edge, because its following me-"

"So?"

"ARE YOU THAT DENSE?! IT'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" she raised her voice a little too loud, startling a few scattered shoppers who were passing by. They hurried on, shaking their heads, but Bubbles ignored them entirely.

"Just fight it-"

"I can't!" Bubbles wailed. "It's made out of X3Ti6!! It's too strong for us to deal with, and it can kill us… that's why Blossom's hand was bleeding…"

Buttercup blinked a few times as if the information was just starting to process through her brain. She shook her head warily, and raised her eyebrows.

"You're crazy, Bubs. Nothing is _following_ you-"

"Oh yeah?!" she cried, simultaneously bringing her right forearm up to Buttercup's face and tearing away a thick bandage, only to reveal the scabbing of a deep cut in her flesh.

"Tell me, am I imagining this?!" and she nearly shoved the foul wound into Buttercup's face, hovering it at her eye-level challengingly. Buttercup's gaze locked onto it, and her eyes widened with sickening surprise.

"Holy shit, Bubbles."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said… and that's also exactly what I'm in. I have no idea how to deal with this. We can't fight it… I'll just have to keep running…"

"No you don't. We can deal with this…"

"No! That's just it! This thing is too strong! I've already tried fighting it! Mojo's done it this time, Buttercup… he's figured out how to win…"

"Bah, nonsense. He won't win-"

"It was following me today… that was why I was running… but it doesn't attack me when I'm in a crowd. It only attacks while I'm alone… so if I stay around people… I'm fine…"

Buttercup stared at her sister firmly, her darkened eyes showing a disregard for her own problems. She sighed heavily, 

"I don't know, Bubbles… Have you told Blossom… or the professor?"

"No! I wasn't even going to tell you…"

"Well, you probably should- Hey! Why not?!" Buttercup cried, affronted that her sister was so adamant to keep a secret like this from her. Bubbles looked really pained, and like there was something she really needed to express, but just couldn't in the way she really wanted to.

"Because… you're mean to me… you've always been mean to me…"

Buttercup narrowed her eyes at Bubbles, and put her hands on slender hips. Her expression was one of disbelieved disgust. Bubbles halted in her words, noticing Buttercup's change in expression, and pointed her finger at her sister's face.

"And you're doing it now! You've always had this condescending way about you that makes me never want to confide in you!"

"Condescending?! You think I treat you like a baby?!"

"YES!"

There was a moment of silence between them, and Buttercup looked down at the ground, her hands still planted firmly at her waist. She almost looked like she was going to apologize, but Bubbles decided to open her mouth first.

"You treat me like a baby… when its YOU who's acting like YOU'RE THREE!"

Buttercup's jaw dropped in denial, her brow slanted in a snarl.

"The only person who's a baby is you! You still dress like a baby, you still act like a baby-"

"FUCK OFF BUTTERCUP! I'M SO SICK AND TIRED OF YOU!" Bubbles let her temper and anger burst, and she did something she never though she would ever do. She narrowed her eyes, and marched right up to her sister, and with all her strength she shoved Buttercup hard back onto the pavement.

Buttercup fell, landing on her backside roughly, her eyes wide in disbelief that Bubbles had just exerted some form of violence on her. That was also when she realized that they were still in public, and people were watching. In fact, they'd all stopped in their tracks, and their staring faces were open with shock. Wasn't this sort of thing illegal?

"You think you're the only person with problems in the world! Oh look at me, _I'm Buttercup… and I HATE EVERYTHING. POOR, POOR ME-_"

"And you fight like a baby too-" Buttercup said, a muttered breath that nobody could hear except Bubbles, who was standing over her with her shoulders heaving with rage. 

"If you hate your life so much…" Bubbles started, her teeth bared, tears in her eyes. Perfect timing. The one time Buttercup was accusing her of still acting like a child, she had to start crying. But she was also hesitating, for fear of the power of the words she really wanted to let go.

Buttercup was still sitting on the ground, her head bowed, her hands supporting her body on either side of her. Her image was so sickening to Bubbles, the way her body looked so frail and weak, and the way her reaction seemed so pathetic. It just made her even angrier, that Buttercup could treat her like this, when it was clearly her who had some serious problems.

Buttercup lifted her eyes to Bubbles, who was surprised to find no emotion whatsoever in her sister's gaze.

"You don't have to say it… I know what you're thinking…"

"Buttercup… I didn't mean it… Please don't take me seriously…"

Buttercup did know what she had been about to say… and that just made Bubbles feel even more ashamed. It was something so terrible, and so horrible, that the guilt for even thinking of it was driving her crazy. Bubbles wanted to desperately say something to Buttercup, but she had already stood, and had turned her back to her sister.

"Buttercup, wait! Don't go! I didn't mean it!" Bubbles managed to choke, this time, not caring if the entire shopping district was seeing her cry.

"Don't worry about it… and I'm sorry… I hope everything turns out okay for you…" and Buttercup started walking in the other direction. Bubbles was left standing alone, wondering what Buttercup's words really meant, and hoping that the people around her would just stop staring and disappear.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 12

Blossom was sitting alone in her room that night, pouring over the remainder of her makeup work from that morning. After everything had been over at the bank, Blossom had spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the streets of Townsville, trying to find some sort of glimpse of either Bubbles or Buttercup, but it seemed as if the both of them had vanished of the face of the earth. After hours of fruitless searching, Blossom had finally given up, and had made her way back to Pokey Oaks High to get her hands on all the makeup work she'd have to turn in the next day. While she'd been there, she'd managed to sneak in a few words to the professor, who was cleaning up his classroom.

"How did it go?" he'd asked jovially, smiling as he continued to wipe up the lab counters with a white towel. Blossom had shrugged, and had plopped her body down at the swiveling chair at his desk.

"Terrible!" she'd cried harshly, spinning her body around as she let her head fall back on the top of the cushy chair. "Buttercup had another one of her episodes again… and completely ruined everything… I was so mad at her-"

"Now Blossom…" the professor had said warily, stuffing the rag in his own private sink at the front of the room. He'd leaned against the counter, supporting himself with his right hand, and his face was awash with impatient concern.

"Have you been doing what I told you to?"

"Yes!" Blossom had cried, throwing her arms up angrily. "And for all the good its done, I might as well have not done anything at all! Professor, I think its time that you really need to sit and talk with her… she just won't open up with me."

"What about Bubbles?" the professor asked, moving to stand next to his desk, where Blossom was still spinning in his teacher's chair. Blossom clucked her tongue in annoyance.

"She isn't any help either. She's gone nuts too. She keeps mouthing off about _being found_ and she keeps floating away into outer space. Me thinks she's been playing too many video games…"

"So Mojo got away?" the professor had asked, leaning over his own desk to watch Blossom's incessant spinning.

"Yes…" she'd said lazily, her eyes half closed. The professor let out a deep sigh.

"Well… look… I'll go ahead and talk to her… but let me tell you, she isn't- would you stop spinning please, you're making me sick-" and he'd grabbed the arms of the chair and Blossom had jerked to a stop, momentarily stunned by the sudden lapse in movement. It had taken a few minutes for her eyes to readjust, and to focus on the professor's dark gaze.

"-Now… she isn't going to be happy once she hears what I have to say… I'm going to tell her she needs to see someone… she needs to talk to a doctor…"

"She's going to flip, you know," Blossom had said, bemused, but knowing all to well that Buttercup really wasn't going to take too kindly to those suggestions. Buttercup was going to have to go so a psychiatrist… and who knew what sort of media attention that was going to stir up. Something inside told Blossom that it was probably going to cause more harm than good.

Blossom had returned home with the professor that night, and as soon as she'd walked in the door, she'd realized that the house was completely empty. Her sister's weren't home… and it was nearly seven. Blossom had glanced anxiously at the professor, who just smiled at her as he hung his coat next to the door.

"I'm sure they're fine Blossom… look, why don't you go do your work, and I'll fix you dinner tonight. You don't have to worry about it. I'll make your favorite!" He'd said brightly, patting Blossom on the shoulder before he'd disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Blossom standing alone in the middle of the wide living room.

She'd trudged upstairs to do her work, and it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to do all the various odd jobs that her less studious classes had asked for. But now, she was attempting to finish her calculus homework, but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate with both of her sisters on her mind.

"Why doesn't anybody tell me anything…" Blossom had mumbled to herself, setting her pencil down onto her pad of paper forcefully. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, realizing that her room had gotten increasingly dark with just the desk lamp beside her on. But she didn't feel like turning her larger lamp on. It was on the other side of the room, and she wasn't in the mood to get up, not when she felt so damn tired, and so damn shut off from everything that was going on with her sisters.

Blossom looked back down at her homework, and she nearly forgot to breath. Her eyes widened, and she let out a pathetic whimper as she realized that she'd been doing all of her derivative equations wrong.

"Why have I not done this right!!" she muttered angrily to herself, feeling all of the bottled up tension and stress inside her heart give a frightening lurch. She picked up her eraser, and looked down at her book, trying to find some source of her error, when-

"Oooh Blossom… you do realize that these are all composite equations… right?"

And Blossom nearly fell off her chair as she took a sudden, sharp intake of breath, hearing the impossibly close whisper next to her face.

"Him!" She hissed angrily, turning her body around to face the demon, who had been leaning over her shoulder with an amused smirk on his face.

"How long have you been there- and how the hell do you know how to solve differential equations?!"

Him, leaned ever closer, and seemed to be concentrating hard on Blossom's math book. He narrowed his eyes and seemed to be reading, his face suddenly closed.

"I'm talking to you!"

"Blossom, you forget that I know many things… and being the leader of the Underworld definitely calls for some sort of mathematical skill…"

"You have _got_ to be joking."

Him raised both of his delicate eyebrows, and turned his glowing gaze onto Blossom, who drew back just slightly at his closeness.

"If you must know Blossom… I just got here, noticing that you were _very_ upset… I thought I could make you feel a little better."

Blossom turned back to her homework and sighed letting both of her fists fall into her lap.

"I'm… I'm fine… I just don't know how to fix these mistakes is all… I think I missed this lesson…" Blossom lied. She was quite sure that he knew she was fibbing too.

And Blossom was startled when she saw Him reach for her math book, grasping it with one delicate claw. He slid it off her desk, and Blossom attempted to snatch it, but she wasn't fast enough. She turned quickly, and looked up at Him with annoyance, who was reading the book sideways.

"Is _this_ how they teach you? No wonder you never remember… Tsk… what a waste…" he said lightly, his voice the usual sing-song falsetto. He held the book by it front cover, and started shaking it curiously. Blossom felt her blood start to boil.

"You're going to ruin it!" she shrieked, and she leapt from her chair to make a grab for the book. "You're about to cost me fifty bucks… and I'll make you pay for it!"

"You really don't need this awful thing Blossom… you could let me teach you… was it… calculus?" he'd said joyously, jerking the book out of her reach before throwing it against the wall on the other side of the room. Blossom froze.

"There better not be any damage…" she said grumpily, leaning over the pile of pages that were propped haphazardly against the wall next to her dresser. She began examining the book for damage.

"Oh, so you think you can teach me math? And how do you plan to teach me without a book?" Blossom said, not paying attention to where Him actually was. She could tell he was near her somewhere, but didn't know what he was actually doing.

"Oh, their teaching methods are so… impractical…" he said carelessly, seeming to be preoccupied with something. "Its nothing a good amount of chains and spanking couldn't solve."

"Excuse me!" Blossom cried, feeling her face grow red with offended anger. He was really much too vulgar for her taste. "I think I'll stick with the book."

"Oh… that's a shame… and… my… what is this, Blossom?" he said curiously, his voice suddenly going very soft. Blossom turned to see what Him was talking about, and felt a jolt of embarrassed panic streak through her body. He'd been poking through her underwear drawer.

"Give that back!" she cried angrily, leaping up from the floor, and lunging at Him with her arms outstretched. He was holding a rather frilly pair of her panties, dangling them just out of her reach.

"Do you actually wear this… oh… how jealous am I…" he said sweetly, his voice very high and mocking. He jerked his claw, the one holding her personals, just out of Blossom's reach.

"Give it back! This isn't funny! Don't go through my stuff!" she cried desperately, scrabbling at Him's chest as she tried to snatch the panties out of his hand. He watched her casually, as she continued to leap up and down in an attempt to end the very awkward situation she was in.

"I'll only give them back…" and he raised his other claw, momentarily pushing Blossom backwards. She stopped her struggles for just a moment. 

"… If you let me see you wear them-"

"DREAM ON WEIRDO!" Blossom burst, her face draining of all its color. She was so close to punching him, that she had lifted her fist in the air. He'd noticed this, and had only smiled, letting out a delighted snicker of laughter at her torture. She attempted one last leap, this time using Him's body for leverage, and managed to grab a fist full of her personal laundry in his claw.

She yanked hard as she fell, but only succeeded in losing her balance, pulling Him down with her. They both fell with a tremendous crash to the floor, and Blossom instantly regretted her course of actions, seeing as Him was now lying on top of her on the floor.

"Well… well… well…" he said silkily. "What a curious predicament this is…" his voice went very low and smooth, almost to the point of being seductive. Blossom tried to squirm out from under him, but realized that she was pressed too tightly to the floor. She felt her face start to burn with bashful panic, and her heart suddenly jacked up to at least a thousand beats per minute.

"Get… off…" she stuttered shyly, feeling as if her entire body had gone numb. Him cocked his head to the side, and looked at her strangely, his eyes partially closed.

"I don't think I can do that…" he said sweetly, biting his lower lip gently. He moved his right claw, the one that was still holding Blossom's laundry, and dangled it over her face. "You can have this back, I think I like this much better…"

"I said, get off."

Him frowned, and looked into Blossom's eyes firmly. He threw her panties to the side carelessly and rested his claw back on the floor.

"But that isn't fair to me…"

"I don't care… get off… and stop looking at me like that…"

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to cop a feel. Get off!" and Blossom made one last violent push, but gasped as he caught her wrist in his claw, pressing it back to the floor.

_This is it… I'm going to die… he's going to kill me now…_

But his face didn't look angry, or vengeful. Instead, he seemed almost gentle. Very slowly, he dipped his face towards her, as if moving in for a kiss, but Blossom jerked her head sideways, so that he got nothing but her cheek.

He drew back just slightly in dismay, and turned his head to get a better look at her turned face. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked very strained.

"You will not let me kiss you?"

"Are you insane? Of course I won't… You're…. You're… Him…" she said simply, but held a light stutter in her words.

"Ah. I see. I make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes… Just a little!"

"But you almost let me kiss you… last time…"

"I was half asleep!"

"Blossom… you know its inevitable…" he breathed, lowering his face again, his mouth hovering just over her ear. He let his breath slide along the skin of her neck, and took in a heavy breath as he continued to whisper. "If we keep ending up in situations like this… I assure you… much more than an innocent kiss will occur."

Blossom felt her heart freeze as she snapped open her eyes. She let her breath catch in her throat as she took in the full meaning of his words. No, she wouldn't let that happen… _I can't… this is crazy… I don't even want this… I WON"T._

"But, until then, Blossom… I suppose I will have to settle for all that I can…"

Blossom felt her body seize up, as she felt his surprisingly soft lips plant firmly against the skin of her neck, sending strange prickling sensations through her body. She whimpered in suppressed anger, and made one last violent attempt to push him off.

And this time, Him did move away, and he sat upright, looking down at Blossom with a very heated look in his eyes. Blossom propped herself up on her elbows, and looked up at Him fearfully, unsure of what she should do or say. Everything about this was so very wrong, and it just felt terrible inside, which was exactly why Blossom didn't want anything to happen. She _wouldn't_ let anything happen, not if she had any say in it.

Him sighed, and his expression changed drastically. He suddenly looked very tired, and Blossom was very surprised at how young he looked. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, or perhaps his expression, but there was something about his face that seemed so adolescent.

"Blossom… I need you to know that I've been watching your sister… and I do think that Buttercup needs your help…" Him said warily, his eyes closed. Blossom sat up even more, her thoughts now overcome with worry.

"What do you-" But she was cut off as she heard the professor's voice float up from the bottom of the staircase below. He was calling her down to dinner.

Him turned towards her door, his attention on the sound of the professor's voice, and then he turned back to Blossom.

"I suppose this is my cue to leave you."

"Him… I need to ask you a favor…"

Him had been in the process of standing, but he stopped, and turned to Blossom as she grabbed him firmly by his arm.

"Anything."

"I guess… If you… really… care about me like you seem to… then… promise me you'll watch over Buttercup for me… and just let me know if anything goes wrong… we're going to get her help… but that may not be enough…" she looked up at Him sheepishly, whose emerald eyes were aglow with genuine concern as he looked mournfully into Blossom's eyes.

"Of course I will." he said, and Blossom found herself clutching onto nothing but a light wisp of pearly smoke as Him suddenly disappeared. 

What Blossom didn't know, was that Him was the entire cause of Buttercup's draining spirit. On her own, Buttercup would have weakened, but not to the state that Him really needed. Thus, he was using his own influence over her to slip her deeper and deeper into depression, pushing her slowly into the final stage that would be the climax of his master plan. What Blossom didn't know, certainly wouldn't kill her.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 13

Bubbles always enjoyed Saturdays the best out of every day of the week, and felt like this one was no exception.

She sat on the couch in front of the TV, propped up against one of the armrests as she rested a book in her lap. She'd been sitting there reading for the past hour, periodically checking the clock, and was starting to feel very tired.

Bubbles sat upright and set the book down next to her, leaning her body back into the cushions of the couch. She closed her eyes, and sighed dreamily, wishing that she had time to take a nap. But she didn't. She had to meet Dexter at the library in half and hour to finish a government project.

The professor walked into the room, holding a spray bottle and a cleaning rag in his hands. He was wearing a ridiculous frilly pink apron that Blossom had given him ten years earlier as a gift, but he seemed to not notice that he was wearing something rather feminine as he went about his cleaning.

"Why hello there, stranger," the professor said happily, almost instantly breaking into a fit of whistling. He walked over to the TV and started wiping it down with his rag. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"Ha, very funny professor," Bubbles said casually, bringing her knees up to her chin. She watched the professor for a few minutes as he cleaned the dust off the television, before standing to help him.

"So, what exactly have you been up to? Feels like the only time I ever see you is school, and even then you don't seem like you're really there," the professor asked, frowning as Bubbles grabbed the bottle of cleaner from his hand.

"I've just been preoccupied…" she said, spraying a few squirts onto the shelf the TV was sitting on. The professor sighed, and stood straight, arching his back in a stretch.

"Well, just try not to work yourself to death you know. Homework isn't supposed to kill you," he said quickly, throwing the cleaning towel onto the top of the TV box. Bubbles raised her eyebrows quickly.

"Ummm… yeah…" she said softly, grabbing the towel and turning to face the window. She started spraying it wildly, as if trying to create some sort of a distraction. "You're right, homework shouldn't be hanging over my head so much, should it?"

The professor didn't respond, but started to untie the apron from around his waist. He removed it, and threw it down in a partially folded pile onto the couch.

"Aren't you suppose to be at the library today?" he asked. Bubbles stopped her sporadic cleaning and turned to face the professor.

"Yeah, we need to finish a poster for government class… which reminds me, I need to go get my colored pencils. I should probably go anyway. I don't want to miss the train…" Bubbles said quickly, her words trailing off as she put both the spray bottle and rag onto the couch. She brushed past the professor, and felt his hand pat her back as she passed. The touch made her tense just slightly, but not enough for the professor to notice. 

Her back was significantly sore, because a few nights ago she'd been thrown through a brick wall by the very powerful thrust of a solid, metallic hand. She'd looked at her back in the mirror after returning home that night, and had been terrified to find a hideous bruise that covered her back from her shoulders to her waist. Not to mention the fact that her entire torso was stiff and sore. Needless to say, she'd been wearing nothing but substantially large sweaters and turtlenecks since then.

But she'd gotten away, again. How many times was she going to get lucky? And how long was it going to take for that luck to run out?

Bubbles tried not to think about it as she bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. She made it up to the landing, and her attention was caught by some sort of movement from the bathroom. She moved closer, and frowned.

Buttercup was standing in front of the mirror, almost completely motionless. She was staring into her own reflection, her hands rubbing at her forearms repeatedly as if she was cleaning them somehow with some sort of programmed motions. Her eyes were very blank, her mouth thin, and her growing-out hair was hanging limply past her shoulders. Buttercup didn't seem to notice that Bubbles was staring at her. She looked deeply occupied in her own thoughts.

Bubbles thought back to what she'd said to Buttercup just two days earlier, and felt the familiar stab of guilt plunge into her heart. She'd tried time and again to apologize to Buttercup, but it was hard to sit and talk to someone who seemed to be avoiding all human contact. Bubbles had at least gone so far as to slip a note under Buttercup's door, to say she was sorry and that she hadn't meant anything that she'd said, and most importantly, that she cared and wanted to help. But, whether or not Buttercup had actually read the letter and had taken the words to heart was a different matter entirely.

Almost as if on cue, Buttercup turned and saw Bubbles staring at her. She quickly put her hands behind her back as if hiding something, and a familiar sneer spread across her face.

"What?"

"I…I was just wondering what you were up to," Bubbles lied. She looked down at the ground, feeling angry at herself and at Buttercup for making any interaction together so damn hard. When did they suddenly grow so far apart?

Buttercup didn't respond, but came out of the bathroom, still wearing her night clothes. She glanced at Bubbles once, then looked down at the floor before quickly returning to her own room. Surprisingly, Buttercup didn't even shut the door, but instead of making things worse, Bubbles admitted her defeat and walked over to her and Blossom's room, where the door was closed.

Bubbles walked up to the door, but stopped abruptly. She heard voices.

She tried to strain her hearing, but only heard Blossom talking… to herself? That was just a little bit strange.

Bubbles kept listening, her fist hesitantly raised to knock on the door, and then she heard something that made her blood run cold. There was a second voice in that room, one that she knew all too well. _Shit-_

"BLOSSOM!" Bubbles burst into the room, not even bothering to knock, throwing the door open as she fell into the bright, pink of Blossom's half of the bedroom. Bubbles looked around wildly, her hands balled up in fists, but stopped suddenly when she realized that Blossom was the only person in the room.

"Bubbles?" Blossom croaked weakly. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed in her favorite pink sweater and pleated skirt, her face wide with terror as if Bubbles's sudden entrance had given her quite a start. 

Bubbles stomped into the room, looking around quickly. She moved over to where the curtain separated the room and threw it open, as if expecting some sort of monster to be hiding behind it.

"Bubbles… are you okay?" Blossom said meekly, moving so that she was now standing on her hands and knees on the bed. She was watching Bubbles anxiously.

"I heard voices in here!" Bubbles cried, turning to Blossom quickly. They met eyes for a second, and Blossom's face suddenly broke into a sly grin.

"Oh… that was me… I was listening to the radio…" she said casually, plopping herself down onto her bed so that she was now lying on her stomach. Bubbles's face erupted into a viciously incredulous expression of mistrust.

"You can't be serious… I heard you talking!"

"No just the radio…" and Blossom motioned to her small portable stereo that was in fact sitting right next to her on the bed. Bubbles straightened, feeling the sudden adrenaline drain from her system. She had been so sure she'd heard Him's voice coming from the bedroom… something seemed weird.

"Well… all right then…" Bubbles said tonelessly, watching Blossom with eyebrows raised. "I just came to grab my pencils."

"Be my guest," Blossom said casually, stretching her arms in front of her as if she was examining her hands. "You know where they are."

Bubbles walked past the curtain and moved over to her desk, where she threw open the top drawer carelessly. It came flying out violently, and she spilled everything onto the floor. She cursed under her breath, muttering angrily, and bent down to pick up her box of colored pencils that had nearly dumped its contents along with the rest of the mess. She grabbed her purse from her bed, stuffed the box of pencils inside, and then tore past the curtain.

"I'll be back later," Bubbles mumbled incoherently, and Blossom murmured her own goodbye as Bubbles left the room in a hurry.

She raced down the stairs once again, and made a dashing leap for the front door, but the professor stopped her before she could throw it open.

"Oh, and Bubbles…" he said, his voice melodious as it floated out from somewhere else in the house. Bubbles scoffed angrily and turned, slapping her arms down at her sides.

"What?!" she cried, harassed. This went unnoticed by the professor.

"Don't be home too late-"

"Yeah, yeah," and she threw open the door, walked out, and slammed it shut before the professor could say another word.

She walked down the street towards a larger section of the Pokey Oaks suburb, where the train station would take her downtown. As she walked, she couldn't help but keep checking behind her, despite the fact that it was broad daylight, and she'd instantly know if something was following her. It had become more of a habit to be constantly wary about her surroundings, which was probably a good thing to have, except for the fact that it made her seem overly paranoid.

She passed a row of bikes as she entered the vicinity of the train station. She walked to the stairway that would take her to the ticket center, and ran up them two at a time. She hurried passed the crowds of commuters, ignoring their incessant stares as she pushed past them. She bought her ticket at the machines that lined the walls, and went to stand on the platform, hurrying through the ticket gates.

Bubbles stepped on the train and found a spot next to a window at the end of the car. She didn't feel like entertaining curious Townies today. The whole episode with Buttercup and Blossom had put her in a foul mood, and she just wanted to be alone. Something was going on with Blossom too, and what pissed Bubbles off even more, was the fact that she seemed to find something funny about her strange behavior.

Whatever. Bubbles didn't care anymore. They could both wallow in their own self-pity and problems for all she cared. If they didn't want to talk to someone and straighten it out… then who needed them anyway. They deserved to stay depressed.

A few minutes later the train pulled to a stop, and she heard the voice of the conductor over the intercom.

"Downtown Townsville…"

Bubbles stood, ignoring the curious stares as she hurried to the train door, and waited anxiously for it to open. There was a burst of cool air as the door slid away, revealing the new train platform at Downtown Townsville station.

Bubbles stepped off the train, readjusting her purse on her shoulder, and she looked around quickly. Dexter was supposed to meet her there. Checking her watch, she realized that she was early, so she walked forward and found a bench to sit on and wait.

The Downtown Station was much busier than the Pokey Oaks stop, being a larger, busier part of town. The entire station itself was much larger, and even went so far as to be considered a mini mall. Inside the multiple-storied station itself, the walls were lined with small shops and restaurants, along with small carts that sold various items from newspapers to gifts. In fact, this particular station was pretty much the center for a lot of commuters, and nearly every train that went anywhere, stopped somewhere at the Downtown Station. Even large, vacationer trains stopped here on their way to various parts of the state, and even country.

It was a nice place, and for some reason made Bubbles feel comfortable. Maybe it was just the fact that there were so many people; business people in fine clothing, teenagers on their way to days of shopping, or even various commuters just trying to get somewhere in Townsville. Or maybe it was the fact that Bubbles had always liked the trains. She'd always enjoyed riding them, and it had started years ago when the professor would sometimes take her and her sisters way out into the outskirts of Townsville for picnics. She just liked the way they looked, and the way they sounded when they moved, and she liked the idea of being high above everything, gliding on raised tracks above the city like the trains themselves were flying. It made her just slightly nostalgic.

Bubbles sighed, trying hard not to think of the times when she'd been able to fly. Hell, if she could still fly… she could easily get rid of X… but things just weren't that simple anymore. Growing up was a bitch.

Bubbles put her face in her hands and closed her eyes wearily. Thinking about the past was hard, and it just made her feel even more scared to leave the past further and further behind. Someday she'd have to grow up and leave the nest… but she wasn't sure if she was ready for that… at least not yet. That is to say… if she made it through the school year alive.

"Bubbles!" her name was called from somewhere off to her left, and for a split second Bubbles just thought it was another stupid Townsville fan. She lifted her face to the direction of the voice, her expression one of utter annoyance, but she instantly softened.

"Dexter!" She cried, jumping to a stand. She felt a fluttering in her stomach, and for a second she momentarily lost her balance as some sort of strange emotion came over her. A warm, fuzzy feeling suddenly bloomed inside of her breast as she broke into a smile.

Dexter stumbled towards her, his brown wool jacket hanging limply over his shoulders as he fumbled with his side bag. He looked worn, and almost like he'd been running, his clothes all askew.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to ::pant:: make you wait for me!" he cried desperately, stumbling to a stop just in front of her, nearly crashing into her before she managed to catch him with her hands.

"No! I was actually here early…" she said lazily, her hands clumsy as she attempted to readjust the scarf he was wearing. She wasn't exactly aware of what she was doing, but suddenly froze in alarm as she realized that she'd been trying to straighten out his black shirt.

"Sorry… it was sorta messy.." she said, blushing furiously. She'd found that she'd started blushing a lot when around Dexter, and wasn't entirely sure as to what it meant. She patted his wool jacket and tried to smile, but found that everything she tried to do came out clumsy as a result of her furiously beating heart. Dexter seemed nonplussed, and almost oblivious to Bubbles's awkward reactions. He smiled at her and shrugged.

"I want to get this done quickly, because… I have a lot of work to do at home…" he said, and they both started walking towards the stairway that would lead them down onto the street. They moved through the last line of ticket gates, and started down the stairs.

"Me too… but I just want to get it done. I was going to hang around town for a while. You can come with me if you want… that is… unless you-" Bubbles started to say, but stopped and turned to look at Dexter, who had stopped on a step behind her. He was looking at her anxiously.

"Well… erm- it can wait…" he said lightly, brushing a strand of hair past his face. "I suppose if you want me too-"

"Of course I do! We can get lunch! Come on!" Bubbles cried, and without even realizing what she was doing, she latched onto his hand and started pulling him down the stairs. She looked back at him again, and he had the strangest expression on his face, and she almost thought that he too was blushing.

They both landed with a thump on the pavement below the stairs, and Bubbles instinctively let go of his hand, suddenly realizing that only boyfriend and girlfriend do that sort of thing. She felt just slightly embarrassed, but by his expression he didn't seem to have minded.

"Hey, Bubbles," Dexter started as they began walking down the sidewalk, dodging a group of children on bikes. Bubbles looked over at him, and was surprised to find him staring into her face. For a second she was taken aback.

"What… is there something wrong with my-"

"Huh?! No… I just noticed that you had your hair down today…" he said quietly, his eyes darting onto the road in front of them. Bubbles too looked away, and looked down at the ground. What an odd thing to notice…

"Oh… well I… I guess it was time for a change…" she said sheepishly, trying to come up for an explanation as if she'd done something wrong. Dexter looked back at her immediately, almost panic drive. He raised his hands and started waving them madly in the air.

"Ah! No, I didn't mean that it didn't look good… because… well.. I just thought you looked especially nice today, is all…" he said quietly, his voice so soft it almost seemed as if he was purposely keeping her from hearing. Bubbles once again felt her face growing red, and she tried to avoid his gaze, because she knew she was blushing. _Just what in the hell is going on today?_

She'd never really spent time with him outside of school, but for some reason this seemed overly strange to her. Bubbles had noticed that she'd grown rather attached to her new friend, and it was almost like he'd felt the same way. She'd always had the impression that he'd never had many girls as friends, and Bubbles always wondered why. Dexter was so genuine, and he had such a good heart… and he just seemed as if his intentions were in the right place. He was the first boy she'd ever met that had looked past her image as a Powerpuff Girl, and genuinely enjoyed her company as a _real human being_. Maybe that was why she almost felt… a little bit smitten.

And it was starting to get stronger with each passing week. Every time she saw him, she was always overcome with this overwhelming sense of happiness, and safety. She just felt so secure around him, and felt like she could easily tell him anything. He was her best friend… but lately… she'd started to feel like she wanted him to be even closer to her. What she really wanted was to be comforted, and to be told everything was alright, because her life was in so much chaos. She just wanted help, from someone outside of her battered family, and she wanted someone to be there as a pillar for her. To keep her stable and sane. Someone to protect her.

But perhaps that was ludicrous. Perhaps if by some miraculous chance he had some _secret laboratory_ somewhere filled with giant robots and weapons, he'd be able to protect her from X. But that wasn't going to happen. That kind of thing happened in cartoons, not in real life.

She didn't even know if he felt the same way about her, and she was afraid to ask for fear of destroying the already wonderful relationship they had. Yet, a sense of awkward tension was growing between them that she didn't really like, but she had to wonder if it was because he was perhaps developing feelings for her too. Her friend Robyn was already teasing her… and perhaps if _she_ saw something… then just maybe…

They were silent together, and Bubbles looked over at Dexter, whose face seemed very closed and strained. She sensed something in him, some sort of mystery that was just waiting to be uncovered. Maybe that was another reason why she had become infatuated with him. He was so mysterious, and he came off as being a boy who was very hardened, like he'd had to endure countless horrors in his past. Bubbles wanted to ask him, to talk to him, to learn about his past and to comfort him if needed, but she was always afraid to ask. Perhaps, some day, he'd tell her about his own life.

But now, she'd have to settle for wondering about the boy who was walking next to her, the handsome boy-genius who was hiding some sort of secret deep inside of him. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 14

Buttercup was in her room when the professor went to talk to her that afternoon, and she didn't seem too keen to entertain any sort of visitors.

She was moving about the space of her room, tearing through her closet and drawers looking for the clothes she wanted to wear that morning. The professor went to the doorway, clutching a pile of his daughter's clean laundry, a hesitant look on his face as he tapped lightly on her doorframe.

Buttercup jumped when she heard him, her back turned away from the door, but she spun around to meet the professor's face. He smiled warmly, hoping to instill some sort of conversation with his increasingly distant daughter.

"I went ahead and washed these for you…" he said gently, moving into the room and setting the neatly folded pile down onto her bed. He lingered for a beat, staring down at her rumpled sheets and piles of homework papers that adorned the surface of her bed, as if calculating the right thing to say to her. Buttercup was standing near the window, her shoulder's square and a look of utmost revulsion on her face, as if a giant slug had just slithered into her room.

"Thanks," she said off-handedly, stomping over to the bed to claim a shirt that was half-way down the pile. She ripped it free, spilling the entire batch all over the bed and floor. Walking away towards the window again, she threw the shirt carelessly on her desk chair and began fidgeting around in her sock drawer.

The professor sat down on the edge of her bed, resting his elbows on his knees, and set himself to watching Buttercup, who had seemed to forget that he was still there. He was silent for a while, eyeing her calmly as she erratically searched through her drawer, every bone in her shoulders and upper body visible through her small nightshirt. The professor cleared his throat loudly in an effort to get her attention, and as soon as he did so, Buttercup snapped her drawer shut and wheeled around to face him, an expression of complete irritation on her face.

"What?!" she said forcefully, leaning slightly forward with her hands on her hips. She was eyeing him coolly, a look of resistance playing across her face. The professor smiled warmly in her direction, but her expression never wavered.

"Why don't you come sit over here, I won't bite," he said calmly, shoving the turned over pile of clean clothes to the far edge of the bed, in order to make room for his black-haired daughter to sit down. She raised her eyebrows, and looked as if she was about to shoot off a snide remark, but the professor interjected. "I'd like a word with you."

Buttercup folded her arms across her chest and remained silent. She was eyeing him with disbelief, as if he was asking for the most arduous task in the world to be performed. He continued to watch her, his gaze never hinting any weakness or sign of giving up. She was challenging him, and he knew her ways all too well. He wasn't going to let her win this time, not when he knew so much was at stake.

"Come here," he said lightly, shifting on her bed. Buttercup let her arms fall to her sides, yet continued to watch the professor warily. She wasn't going to budge. "All right then, if you won't come over here, I'll come over there."

The professor stood from the bed and moved to the other side of the room, where Buttercup stared up at him, her face in a complete scowl. He sat down at her desk and turned to his daughter, who looked as if she was contemplating running from the room. The professor grabbed Buttercup's arm gently and pulled her over, so that she was partially sitting on his lap, partially squirming to get away. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders so that she couldn't escape, the professor sighed.

"Look, honey, I think its time we went and talked to someone…"

He felt her body stiffen and her head dropped, so that she was staring at the floor. The professor knew he had to be careful, or else he would potentially make her dangerously angry. She was never afraid to hit when she was threatened, emotionally or physically, and if it involved her sisters it always turned out fine. They could deal with her raging outbursts, and the professor was smart enough to know that he himself, nothing more than a regular human being, would never in a million years be able to deal with her. She could do some real damage, and he knew from experience.

"… Just for your own benefit. I'm worried about you… well, you're sisters are too. They may not seem like it, but trust me, they are. They want you to be happy…"

He noticed Buttercup's knuckles had gone white as she clenched her fist tightly on top of the desk. She was clearly battling with something on the inside, and was pained to be confronted by the mere fact that something was wrong with her. Yet, it had to be done, and the professor felt as if it was his responsibility to get her any help she needed. Buttercup clearly needed someone to talk to, or someone that could snap her back into her senses, and tell her that everything really was okay. She was only getting worse as time went on, and if left unchecked… the professor didn't want to think of what could happen.

"I don't need any help…" Buttercup finally mumbled after a few silent beats. Her voice was very low and quavering, almost as if she was fighting back tears; enraged ones.

"Honey, I know what's upsetting you, and there isn't any reason to be angry. You're important to us, and if you somehow think that you aren't special, than you're wrong-"

Buttercup suddenly tore away, and the professor was forced to let go of her as she stomped away back to her dresser. It was all he could do to keep his arm from being torn from its socket.

"Why am I not special? Why are they so fantastic… and why do I have NOTHING?!" she was starting to shout, spitting out the words as if they were particularly revolting. The professor jumped at the sudden change of octave, and her voice filled the room like a loudspeaker. If it was true that practice always made perfect, then shouting was Buttercup's area of expertise. 

"We've had this conversation millions of times before. These things weren't in my control… I had no power whatsoever on what Chemical X would actually do to you three-"

"WHY DID YOU MAKE ME SO USELESS?!"

"Now listen to me! You are NOT useless, and you are just as wanted as your sisters are. You're acting ridiculous!" He could feel his temper rising, his face growing warm with his impatience at Buttercup. The professor just couldn't understand how she had ended up being so stubborn. The Chemical X definitely had influence over her brain chemistry, making her personality into what it naturally was- hotheaded and bad-tempered- but her stubborn attitude was getting worse as she grew older, and he had to wonder if it was just the result of the Chemical multiplying in her system as her body grew. Yet even so, it had to be dealt with, or it would only hurt her in the future. She had to be fixed now, or something bad was going to come of it. It was just a gut instinct he had, as if something inside was warning him that his little girl was in danger.

Buttercup was glowering at him, her face flushed with anger as her breath shook. The professor could tell that she wanted to cry, but he knew she wouldn't in his presence.

"Listen, honey… We can run tests on you… we can see what's going on with your system… maybe if we look into it… we can see if there's a reason why you haven't developed anything new-"

But perhaps the professor had said the wrong thing, because that that moment Buttercup's eyes went very wide, her jaw stiffened, and she looked as if she was about to explode.

"RUN TESTS ON ME?!?! HOOK ME UP TO MACHINE LIKE A LITTLE ANIMAL NOW?!?" she bellowed, gesturing wildly in the air with her fists as tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

The lights in the house flickered, a whirring hum sounding off in the walls surrounding them.

"Buttercup! Doctors run tests on people all the time! It doesn't make you any less-"

"I JUST WISH I WAS NEVER BORN!! THEN I WOULDN'T HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY!" her voice jumped into a near shriek, and she finally covered her face with her hands, her breath heaving and shuddering. The professor felt his temper finally snap, and the anger surged through him as if a dam had just burst. It was a rare occasion when he got really angry, and the girls had to do something _really_ serious to get him to shout. Usually it only happened if they had been messing around in his laboratory, something that had been very common when they'd been young, but they'd grown out of it. Yet this time, there was something in her face and her demeanor that was… to say the least… annoying him to the point of wanting to punish her.

But punishing wasn't going to do her any good. Not this time. Something mentally had been destroyed, and he knew he had to fix it. But, he just felt so angry with her, especially after she shows the audacity to say something truly ridiculous.

"Do NOT raise you're voice at me, and don't you EVER say something like that again, do you hear me?!" he hissed, standing up to his full height in his heightened anger. He was almost on the verge of tears himself, but couldn't stand the idea of leaving her alone, but he just couldn't talk to her right now. 

"You are going to talk to someone if I have to sedate you and drag you to their office by the hair!"

"I won't!" Buttercup cried, tearing her hands away from her face. She was furious.

"You are going to see a therapist and that's final. You need help!"

"I won't!" she cried again, this time her voice harsher as the anger rose again.

"You are being childish, and you are going to find out there isn't any reason to be jealous over something as trivial as-"

"I AM NOT JEALOUS!!!!!" Buttercup hollered, her eyes very wide and filled with rage, almost to the point of glowing a hot green. In fact, they _were_ glowing, and the room seemed to be throbbing with some sort of charged energy. There was a humming in his ears-

-Then the room was plunged into very abrupt mid-afternoon darkness as the lamp across the room suddenly burst with a roaring explosion of sharp sound. Shards of colored glass streaked through the room, covering any surface they could find. 

The professor gasped, covering his face with his arms as pieces of broken glass rained upon him. Buttercup froze, her lip quivering as her gaze turned up to the ceiling, her shoulders very still as she inhaled sharp, shallow breaths.

Then Blossom burst into the room. She looked panic stricken, her hand across her chest as if trying to keep her heart from leaping from her throat.

"What happened?! The power just went out!"

The professor turned his gaze to Blossom, who was standing in Buttercup's doorway. She looked scared, and she returned the professor's gaze with her lingering panic in her eyes. His own eyes were wide with fright, and he turned back to Buttercup, some sort of unreadable comprehension dawning upon his face. The professor turned back to Blossom, who had meanwhile moved cautiously into the room. Her gaze was on her sister, who was standing very still, her face turned upwards in mortified terror.

"A fuse… maybe…" the professor was mumbling, almost to himself as he stood up. "I need… to check something… the lab…"

And he brushed past Blossom, letting a hand fall gently on her shoulder as he moved out into the hallway. A few moments later, the lab door closed downstairs. Blossom and Buttercup were left alone.

"Is-er- everything okay? I heard you two shouting in here…" Blossom started to say, unable to find strength in her voice. Buttercup's own expression was scaring her.

She was barely moving, as if afraid that one inch would cause a bomb to explode. Her eyes were wide, panicked, her lips parted in a silent scream. She was staring up at nothing, her body trembling lightly, the only thing that gave away the fact that she hadn't turned to stone. Blossom stared at her in cautious horror, not fully-understanding what she was doing, almost afraid the Buttercup was having some sort of stroke.

"Buttercup? It's… okay… it was probably just a fuse or something…"

Buttercup suddenly snapped back into reality as if a switch had just been flipped to _on_. Her head whipped around, shards of glass that had been stuck to her hair tinkled to the floor, and she stared back at Blossom with utmost revulsion. Blossom stepped back, suddenly fearful for her life. Buttercup had murder in her eyes.

"GET OUT!" Buttercup shrieked, her voice very shrilly and high. But her voice was trembling with what must have been fear.

"Wait- I-"

"GET OUT!" There was an altogether haunted expression about her face, like being faced by an unknown adversary. She looked… almost… confused… or… ashamed?

"Buttercup, this is hardly fair!" Blossom interjected, pulling together some shred of sisterly authority she hoped she still had. Yet, it was no good. Buttercup took a step towards her, fist raised as if preparing to strike, eyes rolling madly-

"GET OUT!"

"NO!"

Then it was as if a hundred hands slapped into Blossom's body. She felt an unseen force push against her front, as a throbbing growl assaulted her ears like a sub-woofer at full blast.. Gasping harshly, she stumbled backwards, catching herself on the doorframe as Buttercup stomped ever closer.

"NOW!"

Stronger, harder, Blossom was losing her grip on the doorframe. There was a strange angry energy in the air… so sharp Blossom could almost taste it buzzing around her. She could feel it so clearly, so strongly, the loud humming growing ever louder as her sister edged forward.

"GET OUT!"

Buttercup was screaming, her face red with rage but her rolling, trembling eyes communicating some sort of fear that she would never reveal to anyone. Blossom felt the anger and panic well up inside her, she wanted to help, she wanted to wipe the pain from her face, but-

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

At that moment she felt the weight against her jack up to an even stronger push as if someone had just turned up a dial. It was grinding itself ever harder into her, suffocating her as she tried to fight it off. It felt like… something she knew too well, the smothering of crumbled stone from a fallen building, the slamming weight of a monster's hand as it flattened her onto the pavement, pressing harder as Buttercup grew closer… a strange ghostly presence begging her to move…like…

__

Blossom lost control of herself, and she screamed, her voice carrying through the house, shocking even herself. She was pushed backwards, the very same flying sensation she'd received from Him nearly months before as he'd thrown her across the illuminated laboratory. She fell into the hallway, nearly falling over the railing that overlooked the living room.

She heard the shuddering crash of the door slamming behind her, and felt the tremors of Buttercup's strength still buzzing around her body. She felt numb, weak, and a lingering presence of _something_ against her skin. She'd been forced from the room… by something, by someone…

_She wanted me out… She was yelling at me to get out…_

Buttercup had never laid a finger on her… but somehow… Blossom hadn't left the room on her own accord. Something had forced her out. 

__

Trembling, she lifted herself up from her partial leaning position on the railing. She hadn't noticed the tears on her face, but now felt the gummy salt drying onto her skin. Her body was starting to ache, and her knees were trembling. Blossom fell to the ground, all the energy sucked from her limbs. 

She looked through the bars of the railing, and met the stare of the professor. He was standing in the living room, peering up at Blossom, a dawning comprehension upon his face. It was the same look he always wore when he came across some great scientific discovery, some sort of revelation. It was almost like he'd suddenly realized something, but whatever it was, Blossom thought it totally irrelevant in the situation they were now facing.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 15

"I just can't work like this!"

Bubbles finally threw her blue colored pencil down onto the table, throwing a fierce glance at Dexter who sat across from her. He jumped at her outburst, gave her a fleeting look of understanding, before darting his gaze around the rest of the library as if trying to make sure nobody else had heard.

The two of them were sitting at the far end of library near the children's section, their textbooks and project work spread out on a long wooden study table. The softly-lit library was pretty quiet for a Saturday afternoon, except for the occasional squealing of children from behind the bookshelves to their left. For a while they'd worked near silence, occasionally striking up random conversation about various things, but once the conversation had turned to Buttercup, the air between them had gotten rather tense.

"Well… why don't you talk to her?" he said carefully, scribbling a few notes from his government book onto a piece of fairly rumpled notebook paper. He glanced up at her again, and was surprised to see Bubbles's eyes full of tears.

"She won't talk to any of us, you know. I… I think she might do something stupid…"

Dexter set the pencil down onto the table and closed his eyes. He took the glasses from his face and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, before setting the lenses down onto the table. He watched Bubbles carefully, who was regarding him curiously, her head cocked sideways like she was studying something about his face. He suddenly felt very subconscious.

"Your eyes are blue." she said very simply, one silent tear sliding down her cheek. It was almost like she'd completely forgotten about her former anguish, and why she'd been crying at all… yet, all together she had been acting very peculiar since they'd met at the train station.

"Umm… well… yes, they are, but what does that have to do with-"

"Mine are blue too… I guess I never noticed your eyes before…" she said carefully, looking down at the table with her hand to her mouth. She was holding her chin with her fingers, immersed in some sort of deep thought, the likes of which Dexter could only guess. He was starting to think he really wasn't ever going to completely understand Bubbles.

But at the same time, her sudden shift in conversation seemed to be a cue that she didn't want to talk about her sister. Dexter thought it better to leave it alone for the moment, at least until she started the conversation again.

"Um, yes, well, I need to look something up, shall we check the computers?" he said cautiously, nodding to Bubbles, who was staring up at him with a faint look of adoration on her face. He looked away hastily, uncomfortable at her staring.

"Thank you," she finally said after a very long, awkward pause. Dexter turned back to her, unaware as to what she was thanking him for.

"Well, I'd feel better if I knew what I'd done that was good-"

"For putting up with me, I guess. I haven't exactly been the easiest person to be around lately… I just have a lot of things going on…" she trailed off, nodding her head slowly as their eyes locked into one another's. He smiled warmly in recognition, and for a few scant seconds they just sat there, staring at one another silently as if waiting for the other to say something. Perhaps they were both waiting for those certain words that were only spoken among the intimate, yet neither had the courage to really open their mouths.

"Well- er- right then," Dexter said, finally breaking their stare as he folded up a stack of carelessly strewn about papers. "Computer…" He grabbed a pencil and stood from the chair. 

As if completely switching personalities, Bubbles finally smiled, her sapphire eyes gleaming over with sudden happiness. She stood too, and nodded.

"Let's hope they aren't all taken," she said, and the two of them walked to the middle of the library. 

The rows of computers sat on low wooden desks, their screens glowing in the late autumn gloom that cast the entire building into a dull grayish glow. Together they found an empty computer at the far of the row, facing the front doors of the library. At first, they both hesitated, not sure as to who should take the seat. They both stared at each other for a beat, before Dexter finally decided to end the awkward lapse by pulling the chair from under the desk. Bubbles was hastily taken aback, not sure of how to react to his very formal gesture.

"I guess… erm… I'll sit then… thank you…" she murmured, setting her body down onto the swiveling chair. Dexter nodded in consent, leaned forward and supported his weight by grasping the back of the chair with the other hand against the table. He didn't even seem to notice how close he was, until Bubbles cleared her throat rather elusively, causing him to look in her direction. He was startled at first, to be hovering straight over her, less than a foot away from her body… but she hadn't seemed to notice him, so for some reason he didn't feel the need to move away. 

"So, we still need some information on the Fourteenth Amendment, then?" she asked casually, her fingers gliding across the keyboard as she spelled out the address of a search engine. He watched her mad snapping of keys with a sense of surprise, noting the fact, with a little bit of guilt, that he'd never suspected she knew anything about computers.

"Not many people know how to type correctly, you know," he said calmly, and at the sound of his voice so close to her, Bubbles craned her head sideways to look up at him, and was also startled at his invasion of her personal space. Yet, she didn't find herself overly irritated, and therefore made no move to inch away. It was strange how if it were anyone else moved so close to her, she would have immediately backed away in order to gain more of her invaded bubble of privacy. Yet with him, she didn't seem to care that he was just within grasping reach, so close she could faintly smell the scent of his cologne… mixed with the fresh scent of his clean skin, almost making her head go fuzzy with a rush of… need?

"Yes, well," Bubbles said hastily, turning her attention back to the computer, where a rather interesting ad for a new movie was blinking with shining colors. "I took a liking to the professor's computer a long time ago. Some times it was the only shelter when my sisters were fighting, which was usually daily."

"Ah, I see."

"Why? Does that impress you?" she smiled, and looked back up at his face, and noticed that he was staring at the screen, almost as if he was avoiding looking at her.

"Well, I was just noticing… a lot of people don't really understand computers that well," he said matter-of-factly, his face still turned to the screen.

"How much do you know?" Bubbles asked, yet her voice was just slightly accusatory, as if she thought Dexter was spouting off random nonsense.

"Erm…" he hesitated. "A bit." he ended abruptly. She raised a careful eyebrow, but left it at that.

Bubbles figured that was the end of the conversation, so she turned back to the screen. Both of them stared at it blankly for a while, before Bubbles finally decided to continue the search.

"I suppose we could try one of the government addresses… hey!"

Both of them watched with curious wonder as their screen started blinking incessantly, the monitor hazing over with random horizontal lines of electrical disturbance that slid down the screen sporadically. There was a strange mechanical ring emanating from the screen, and as they looked around, they found to their surprise, that all of the computers were behaving in the same peculiar fashion.

"Power surge?" Dexter commented softly, looking around as other people at computers stared in puzzlement as their computer screens went from blank, to hazy, to completely normal, seemingly at random intervals. It was like a connection had gone bad… or a signal losing strength, but whatever it was, something was definitely interfering with the computers' delicate circuitry.

"Is there a storm coming?" Bubbles wondered aloud, looking towards the windows as if expecting to see a torrential downpour of rain. Yet, there was nothing.

Then Dexter nudged her roughly on the shoulder, and she spun around, only to meet his worried eyes. He jabbed his head towards the door, motioning for her attention, and she turned her eyes forward.

Bubbles leapt up in her chair, startling Dexter enough to cause him to leap backwards in alarm. She didn't say anything, but just watched tensely as Buttercup trudged through the doors, passing by the two of them without even a glance. Her face was very hard, and she seemed to be muttering under breath, but Bubbles couldn't read what she was saying.

They both watched her pass, and continued staring as she disappeared behind a row of bookshelves. For a second Bubbles hesitated, wondering if it was even worth it to try and talk to her. Crestfallen, she knew that Buttercup probably wanted to be alone, and wouldn't be in any sort of mood to talk to her. Yet, she never seemed to be these days.

"Well… let's get back to it," Bubbles said quietly, and she sat back down at the chair, rubbing her temples with her fingers as if warding off a headache. She suddenly felt very… threatened? It was like Buttercup's entrance had suddenly instilled some sort of panic deep inside of her, and as Bubbles frantically tried to turn it of, she realized with a new sense of alarm that her heart was pounding. She wanted to run.

"Aren't you going to talk to her?" Dexter asked frantically, his eyes reading her face urgently. He noticed that Bubbles suddenly seemed very troubled. She shook her head frantically, and buried her face deep in her hands. 

Suddenly Bubbles leapt up from her chair, a whirring buzz in her head. She didn't know what was going on, but she was suddenly afraid, very afraid. 

"Are you okay?!" Dexter cried, panic driven. She was pacing madly. The fear was getting stronger, like, something was growing closer… People noticed her distress and had all stopped to watch her, but she didn't care, she just wanted to get away. Then-

_There!_

It's here!

Bubbles suddenly gasped, grabbing the sleeve of Dexter's shirt roughly as she suddenly jerked spastically into a partial crouch. He stumbled, watching her face with horror, not sure of how to react to her jacked up sense of alarm, not sure of what he should do. Like an animal, she sensed something, she sensed a predator.

Then an explosion rocked the building on the other side, the commotion hidden by the endless rows of bookshelves. People screamed, and like a stampede hordes of them emerged from the jungle of shelves and books, all of their faces twisted in terror. Above all the chaos there was a deafening screech of metal, a roar, followed by the thundering metallic _clang_ of giant metal feet hitting the hard library floor.

Dexter had frozen in Bubbles's grasp. His mouth hung open in shocked silence, his eyes wide… yet there didn't seem to be fear in his eyes, only a sense of disbelief, and dawning comprehension.

He jumped as Bubbles suddenly screamed, her cry carrying over the horrendous sound of splintering wood and thousands of books dumping to the floor. Directly to their left, a tremendous section of the library exploded, as the shelves were flung away to make room for the metallic beast that Bubbles had dubbed X. It was almost running, its mass skidding to a halt as its faceless head caught site of her. It paused for a beat, twisting its head sideways as if studying her with animal curiosity, then-

"So this is you're little friend?" There was a fleeting sarcastic voice from behind Bubbles, and she knew that Buttercup was standing just a few feet behind her. Bubbles risked a glance over her shoulder, and sure enough, saw Buttercup just a few steps away, her arms folded, but her eyes trained on the robot in front of them. Despite her careless words, her face betrayed her desire to protect her sister.

Bubbles tugged at Dexter's arm, yet he didn't budge, much to her horror. He stayed rooted to the spot, his face openly shocked as he stared dumbly at the robot. Bubbles though she saw recognition on his face, as she continued to pull on his sleeve pleadingly, but she hardly cared for any revelation at the moment. If the robot lunged, they'd be trapped, and she doubted it would show any mercy to him. She didn't want Dexter's blood on her hands.

As if reading her thoughts, the robot suddenly lifted its arm, the strange hand morphing into its arm cannon with mechanical efficiency. She heard the familiar hum of its blaster charging, heard it growing in a frenzied crescendo, and realized with a spasm of horror that they were still standing directly in its path, and that they'd probably never get out of the way in time.

There was then an urgent tugging on Bubbles's other arm, and she felt Buttercup's strong grasp upon her.

"Grab your boyfriend, and LET'S GO!" she hollered, and as if on cue, Dexter snapped out of his stupor, and the three of them ran for the double doors of the library.

A tremendous, fiery explosion, and a violent displacement of air shoved the three of them off their feet as they made it out of the blaster's path. There was the searing heat of flames, the overpowering aroma of burned plastic and wood, and the lingering rumbles as pieces of the blasted wall and ceiling came crumbling down behind them.

The three of them leapt back to their feet, cursing, fear willing them all to move, and they took off into the street. They ran, none of them daring to look back. Bubbles the most shaken out of the three of them.

It had actually attacked her in broad daylight… in a public place… where innocent people had been. It had never done that before.

But apparently it would now.

They came crashing to a stop what seemed like a mile away, Dexter panting roughly while Bubbles and Buttercup remained unaffected by their terror-driven jog. Yet, Bubbles was shaking for another reason entirely.

"That was just a bit… awkward…" Buttercup said very simply, brushing her pants off casually as if they'd done nothing more serious than crash a job interview. Bubbles rounded on her, teeth clenched and furious, her entire body trembling madly.

"BELIEVE ME NOW!?" she cried hoarsely, throwing her fists into the air. She turned her gaze between the calm Buttercup, and Dexter, who was leaning against the brick wall of the café, his eyes very wide and angered. He looked almost vengeful, but didn't seem nearly as frightened as Bubbles thought he should be.

"WELL?!" she directed her scream at both of them, and Dexter was startled as she took two giant steps towards him, her face twisted in anger. He stood up completely, and looked at her faintly, almost with pity in his eyes. This did nothing more but enrage her even further. She was about to scream again, but he opened his mouth first.

"I… I… er- have to go, check… erm… something," his face was flushed, yet there was acid in his tone that gave away the fact that he was angry about something. Before Bubbles could react, he spun around, shoved his hands in his pockets, and then walked away quickly, disappearing around the side of a building.

Bubbles stared at the space he had occupied just seconds before, almost in disbelief. He'd just abandoned her, he'd just left her in her state of turmoil as if nothing had happened. He'd just acted as if nothing was wrong at all, as if there wasn't any homicidal robot hunting her down, and she was only making the whole thing up. To say the least, it hurt. She'd thought he'd cared more than that…

"You're boyfriend isn't too bright, is he?" Buttercup mused, her voice a mocking purr. Bubbles spun around and marched back up to her sister, who was eyeing her carefully.

"He _isn't_ my boyfriend!! Did you just see what he did to me!! He abandoned me!!!" she bellowed, letting her sadness overpower her anger. She fell against the side of the building and slid to a crouch, wrapping the loose end of her skirt around her legs. Her blonde hair falling over her shoulders, she stared down into the pavement.

"Don't they all…" Buttercup said distantly, looking around. "Look, I think its about time we told Blossom about this. She should at least know that her sister's about to get pulverized."

Bubbles jerked her gaze back up to Buttercup, now angry again, but also incredibly betrayed. It was like… Buttercup didn't care if she got killed or not… none of them did…

"Well, since you obviously won't help me-"

Buttercup's amused expression dropped suddenly, and she peered down at Bubbles hesitantly.

"I never said I wasn't going to help you-"

"But you talk as if you don't care at all! IT'LL KILL ME!"

"How is it even finding you anyway?!"

Bubbles stopped short, thinking hard. For some reason Buttercup's mention of Blossom had clicked on some sort of understanding in her brain… but she couldn't remember what it was. It was grating at her, like when trying to remember a word that's escaped memory… She could picture Blossom's face, and she was talking, saying something… saying something to her about-

Bubbles looked at Buttercup hard, who was fidgeting nervously with her hair. They both stared at each other, Bubbles still straining her memory to think, then-

"I REMEMBER!"

"Remember what?"

"My hair… its tracking my DNA… however that works… but that's how it keeps finding me in the most random of places. Its tracking my blood…"

"But you aren't bleeding…"

"It doesn't matter, it can just sense me… It can attack me anywhere, and it'll stop at nothing to get at me…"

But those revelations brought another point to her attention. Anywhere she went, she was putting other lives at risk. If it now clearly had no qualms about busting in on heavily populated areas… then surely… it would even attack her at home.

_The professor…_

It would kill him for sure… and not to mention her sisters. Sure, they'd try to fight it off, they'd try to protect her…

But in doing so, they would only get themselves killed. She didn't want to take that chance.

Bubbles knew she had to draw it away from Townsville. She had to keep it from hurting innocent people. She would run, far away, and in doing so would ensure the safety and well-being of thousands. In the end, she herself would probably die, but if it meant the safety of the rest of her family, then it was well worth it.

"I… can't go home…" was the last thing Bubbles said, before she disappeared, running away to leave Buttercup standing alone. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 16

Blossom watched the professor quietly as he examined the fuse box in the garage, a fluffy white sweater wrapped tightly around her body. She jumped rhythmically to keep herself warm, and exhaled a deep, warm breath into the air, watching it fizzle away into tiny floating sparkles of her own organic ice, intensified by the powerless chill.

"Well?" she finally asked quietly, unable to take the strained silence between them. The professor didn't answer her right away, but continued his silent search, training the flashlight on the open compartment before him. It took a few minutes before he finally acknowledged her question.

"It seems as if all the fuses fried out at once… strange…" he said off-handedly, but his voice was strained thin like a wire tightened to its fullest. Blossom felt her interest perk up at his response.

"All of them?" she asked in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," the professor said, sighing heartily. He closed the fuse box with a soft _snick_ and deposited the tiny black flashlight into his pocket. "Must have been a really big power surge, that's the only real explanation…"

"Er-, is it, though?" Blossom asked quietly, gazing silently at her father. He turned to face her, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, I know what you're thinking, and I'll tell you right now, I'm not really sure if it's true," he said carefully, folding his arms. The professor turned his gaze to the darkened ceiling, as if in deep thought. When he didn't speak for five minutes, Blossom decided to return to her own revelations.

"Well, what if it is? Do you know what that could mean? She could have some serious power in her control… she forced me out of her room without even touching me."

The professor looked back at her quickly, his face questioning but his gaze soft.

"She pushed you out of her room?" he asked.

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes… but she didn't touch me. She just came towards me, screaming for me to get out. You could really hear it in her voice too, she meant it," her voice finished weakly, like a dying out afterthought.

The professor walked past her to the door back into the house, and Blossom followed him back into the kitchen, where the early evening gloom was just starting to settle over the house in a dense fog of murky blue. He walked to the counter, grabbed the car keys from the hook near the hotline phone, and jangled them at Blossom, who sat herself down at the table. She shivered, but shook her head quietly to signal to him that she wasn't in too good of a mood for car drives.

"Maybe it'll help you clear your head," the professor said affectionately, waving the keys once again in her line of vision. She could have easily blasted them from his hand with her eye lasers, but quickly decided against it, thinking that perhaps it was too harsh.

"Well… I've been meaning to ask you something, another question," Blossom said quickly, peeling the frilly sweater off her shoulders. She threw it over the back of the tall, plush arm chair to her right, the stitched white patterns blending with the stark opalescent cushioning. She lowered her eyes down in concentration, and proceeded to shake the frumples from her hair.

"Okay, but I want to get this done before it gets too dark-"

"You had one of your looks again…" Blossom said frankly, cutting into the professor's speech. He dropped his shoulders in a perplexed manner and stared, but Blossom merely returned this gesture, her chin resting in her upturned palm.

"How so?" he said sweetly, the corner of his mouth sliding up in a lopsided grin of mischief.

"You know, that look you get," she waved her hands in the air to emphasize her words. "It's whenever you figure something out…"

"Oh, you mean when I was in the living room?"

"Yes."

"Ah. That."

"Well, what did it mean?" Blossom asked, impatience rising in her tone, but suppressed enough to hold back the impression of a bad temper. The professor nodded and put his keys down on the table, the jangling metal odd sounding in the frigid air of their kitchen.

"I… had just been thinking… well, I went down to the lab, you see… and looked through a few of your files," he said carefully, his gaze wavering to different points in the room, everywhere except on Blossom. She wasn't sure if he was doing this on purpose, or if he was literally too deeply in thought to keep his eyes focused.

"Uh, huh?" Blossom urged, unable to bear his pauses. She wanted to know what was going on with Buttercup, and wanted to know now. She watched the professor with curious at tentativeness. "Lots of strange things have been happening around her…"

"Yes, and that's just what I'd set out to understand… but when I looked through all the past data charts, nothing pointed to any sort of conclusion. I really don't know what's happening…"

Blossom felt her heart sink at his words, her hopefulness at the Professor being able to provide some sort of wisdom quickly fizzled away into nothingness. He'd been her last hope for finding some sort of answers, and if he didn't know anything, then certainly nobody else did. Perhaps prayer was a good option at this point, despite the fact that absolutely none of them were religious. 

_Not religious eh? Do you have any idea who you're fraternizing with?_

Shut up!

Blossom tried hard to ignore her conscience, but was finding it hard to ignore the grumbling of discontent in her stomach. She wanted to tell someone, she really did, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say anything at all. She knew it was foolish of her, and downright reckless, because if anything were to happen then it would be entirely her fault for not being more careful. Yet, at the same time, something kept telling her Him wasn't going to hurt her… She wasn't sure where these feelings of security were coming from, but she couldn't shake them out of her mind, no matter what she did.

But at that moment, she had to ignore it all. She had to push Him out of her mind, because the professor was staring at her blankly, his face showing the fact that he knew something was up. For a few tense seconds, Blossom was almost afraid that somehow he knew, just by the nature of his gaze. She returned his stare dolefully, for some odd reason taking in a very exotic character to her father's face that she had never noticed before.

"You okay, honey?" He said finally, his voice very hushed as the room continued to darken in the winter evening. Blossom snapped out of her silence and shook all of her former thoughts aside, for the moment at least.

"I'm just worried, that's all. It seems as if we can't get any peace anymore. If it isn't one thing wrong, its another. I think we've had exactly one straight month where this house has been normal, maybe not even that," Blossom said, her voice heavy with exasperation. She suddenly felt very tired, and with the abnormal absence of light in the house, her fatigue only grew. She sighed, and pursed her lips, glancing back down onto the table.

"Well, I do have a theory at least, about Buttercup, that is," he said finally, his voice more confident now that he was speaking of something a little more uplifting. Blossom looked back at the professor, and nodded eagerly.

"Allright, then, let's hear it…"

"Well, If my hypothesis is correct, Buttercup's sudden weight loss could be a culprit in what's been going on."

"Uuuuuh…. Huuuh," Blossom dragged her syllables in a tone of baffled disbelief, unsure if she was comprehending what the professor was getting at. She looked down at the table, furrowing her brow as if working through the calculations in her head.

"My point is, every cell in your body if reinforced with Xantium, I mean _every_ cell. It's possible that the sudden decomposition of the cells in her body disperses the Xantium particles into the air, thus creating somewhat of an energy field around her, the particles in a constant state of decay…"

For a second Blossom thought he was done, hoping to get a chance to take it all in and sift through the information, because at that point, she was quite confounded. Yet, he wasn't finished after all,

"And sudden surges in that energy is caused by her violent mood shifts. You notice it only happens when she's angry. The natural Xantium you three radiate when riled up is only amplified, in Buttercup's case, because of the fact that the Chemical X in her own body is at a constant state of decay. This is all as a result of her… depression. You're mental health has a significant effect on how efficiently the chemical works through your body. Make sense?"

"I, er- think so…" Blossom said quietly. It was somewhat of a relief to have some sort of an explanation, no matter how farfetched it sounded. Yet, she wasn't sure if she totally bought it. She had her own theories, that she wasn't sure if they were true, but knew they were certainly more desirable then what the professor had to say.

"But then again, that is just a guess. Who knows if that's correct… I just don't know what's happening to your sister lately. I tried talking to her, but… well, you saw what happened." Blossom nodded, and sighed.

"But, I was also thinking professor… what if its this special power she's been ranting about? What if she actually is developing something and the transition is screwing with her brain. I remember when my ice breath first came, I was sick for three weeks, unable to keep any food down…"

"Yes, that was certainly a bad couple of weeks wasn't it?" they professor said seriously, but there was a small flicker of a smile on his face. Blossom felt her own lips turn up into a grin.

"Yes, they were, and what I'm trying to say, is that I remember how terrible I felt when it happened. I felt so weak and useless… and not to mention soooo sick that I just wanted to die."

There was an abrupt silence then, one that neither could trace to a source.

"Maybe we just have to wait and see…" the professor said finally, ending the quiet stillness in the kitchen. Blossom nodded again. "But I think I will just go ahead and make her start seeing someone. Maybe I can talk to a counselor at school… I just don't know…"

"Well, I'll watch her, professor. Bubbles will watch her too. We're always aware of her, so I think we'll know if anything serious turns up."

"I know, I just don't like seeing her like this. It makes me nervous," the professor said softly, for once, casting his own bleary gaze down to the floor. The whole ordeal was becoming quite emotionally taxing for all of them, and Blossom could only wonder if there was any way to solve it at all. Buttercup had always been stubborn, but in her currently, overly-violent demeanor, would more drastic actions need to be taken?

Yet there was something nagging at the back of her brain, something that she couldn't quite pinpoint on the map of her own confuddled thoughts and feelings. Buttercup's change had been so sudden, almost overnight, like some sort of great strangling hold had been placed over her that she couldn't fight. She was spiraling downwards on an endless track, that from Blossom's perspective, only ended in disaster. And the conductor of that train was keeping Buttercup from getting off. She'd always been a fighter. Nothing had ever gotten to her for this long.

But it was now, and Buttercup, despite all of Blossom attempts to be a caring, affectionate sister, was not getting better at all. In fact, she was getting much worse. Blossom only hoped that Him would keep his word and watch her, for he could keep a much closer eye on her than Blossom ever could, yet-

There was also something Blossom found quite strange about that. For Him had showed up on the same night Buttercup's psych suddenly snapped in two, and somehow, he'd known that something was wrong. Yet, he always seemed to know everything about them no matter what, so she wondered if that had any relevancy at all. Blossom had always half suspected that he spent a majority of his time spying on them, studying them, and he'd known about Buttercup because he'd been watching. Surely he wouldn't have anything to do with it? What would he have to gain?

_You…_

_That isn't true!_

_Why don't you think about it? Or has he got your own brain gripped so tightly you can't even think for yourself anymore?_

!!!

Blossom whimpered and dumped her head onto the table, smashing her forehead into the hard surface, trying to jostle her mind to a grinding halt. The professor leaned back sharply in alarm, and for a few scant seconds he didn't even move. Nothing moved in the stillness of their ever-darkening kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just so confused! I don't know what to do!" Blossom cried, her voice muffled by the mere fact that her lips were half pressed against the gauzy, cottony placemat. She felt the professor ruffle his hands through the hair at the back of her head, and a second letter a soft peck at her crown.

"Don't worry too much. Everything will work out, maybe you are right about everything, and this whole mess will be over before you know it," he said, and he stood from the table, grabbing the keys where he'd dropped them. Blossom wanted to say that she hoped everything would be okay, but couldn't muster the strength to move her lips.

Soon, the professor quickly mumbled a goodbye, and started to the door. Blossom remained in the kitchen till he returned home, her head still jammed against the table, and a few times she thought she fell asleep.

Blossom walked alone to her room that night, somehow not even noticing that her sisters were horrendously late. She was tired, and suddenly very upset, feeling the absence of Buttercup's watchful eyes on her back. It had stopped a long time ago, but Blossom was just now realizing how much she had taken it for granted, and now felt sorely lost without it. At least, if Buttercup had still been watching her, she'd never have had to deal with Him in the first place.

She dreamed of Buttercup, holding a knife at her own throat, her hands strangely deformed as she gripped onto the handle of the blade. There was a sadistic smile on her face, pointed canines, and her flashing green eyes were glowing more than they should have been. Blossom could swear that they were slanted, with perfect, long black eyelashes as their frames. She almost looked like a demon.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 17

The moon was harsh that night, lighting the already burning orange streets in a hard white glow. It's fullness hung in the sky like a floating disc of pure light, a stage lamp that shined upon the audience of Townsville, putting everything in flickering shadows as the city continued to breath.

Bubbles watched the illuminated buildings whirl past in a dizzying assortment of colors and sizes. Her round eyes, filled with so much sadness and remorse as the 255 bus continued to move through the governmental district of Townsville, dripped falling tears like leftover tea on blue saucers. She wiped them from her reddened cheeks with the back of her shaking palm, grinding her hand back against her sweater with hopes to dry them. But the tears still came, and she soon gave up on trying to stem the flow.

Bubbles didn't know what she was doing. She had no idea where she was about to go, knowing full well that her actions were horribly reckless and stupid. Bubbles knew she should have told Blossom, she shouldn't have ran from Buttercup, but at this point she was desperate. All alone, with everyone turning their backs on her, she felt like there was nothing else she could do. She needed her sister's help, the little bit they would inevitably be able to give, but Bubbles didn't want to risk getting them all killed, especially if it was only her that X wanted.

But what it didn't end once she was dead? What if Mojo just reprogrammed the robot to go after her sisters, or even the professor? God knew Mojo had it in for him. It was a thought she couldn't bear. Bubbles felt so tired, hopeless and insane with confusion. Her brain was overcome with the constant buzz of panic, and her body on high alert, ready for fight or flight when the time came. But was she just going out to the woods to die? To die alone? To be murdered with nobody there to help her?

A sudden lurch of panic swelled behind her breastbone that made her gasp loudly, causing a few disapproving stares from the people sitting quietly in the seats directly around her. Their faces were all blank, the smallest hints of irritation cast over their eyes, and none of them seemed to give a rat's ass that she was crying. Surely they knew who she was, and if she was really that important to all of them, then certainly they'd be a little bit more sympathetic!

_Selfish assholes. All of them. They've taken us for granted. Let's see how they feel when my mutilated corpse is found in the woods by some camping children. Let's see how irritated they'll be with me when my bloodied remains are uncovered on the evening news._

But as those angry, violent thoughts surged through Bubbles's head, she couldn't help but see her family, standing among the rest of the crowd as the coffin trudged past City Hall, saying farewell to the mayor for the last time. It made her angrier, and it just upset her even further to the point that she was finding it increasingly difficult to hide the jumping hiccoughs in her throat. Seeing the faces of Blossom, and Buttercup and even the professor, all of them mourning her abrupt end, made her dashed feelings of hopelessness grow even stronger. She was facing death, and they didn't even know.

But the only thing Bubbles could think of was that she had to get away. It was the only shining beacon of hope in the swirling hurricane that was her mind. She wanted the rest of her family out of danger, and if that meant her becoming an outcast, then so be it. She could live in the forest, she could take care of herself… and maybe she could even find help as she went along.

Bubbles's thoughts continued on like that for what must have been forever. People came and went as the bus made its stops, edging its way to the city limits of Townsville. It was quiet, much too quiet, and it was starting to grate on her anxiety like nails on a chalk board. She could feel the intensity in every muscle, every wiring pulled taut, ready to leap into action at a second's notice.

Yet soon the muffled roar of the engine beneath lulled Bubbles into a light doze, where she dreamed of flying. Everything was very peaceful, and she could have sat there for hours, her head tilted towards the glass window to her right, her hands wrapped tightly in her lap. Her hair fell softly down her shoulders, dusting her face with soft blonde waves. Yes, everything seemed okay, everything seemed safe.

Bubbles awoke with a startling jolt as the bus shuddered roughly, people around her also stirring with confusion, their once blank faces now darting to look in every direction. Bubbles froze instinctively, feeling as much as hearing the newfound handicap the vehicle had obtained, somewhere around the front wheels. The other passengers were talking about an explosion, and Bubbles listened carefully to both their words, and the sounds that rumbled around her, checking for something, waiting for something to happen-

-Then again, this time at the back. Another thunderous roar of sound as the bus gave a frightening lurch to the side, the back fishtailing dangerously into the sidewalk. Some of the people had screamed, their faces awash with strangled terror as the bus slowly lost control, and Bubbles caught a quick glance at the panicked driver just before she leapt from her seat and jumped into the aisle-

-Again. Another wheel gone. This time the bus tottered dangerously sideways, before readjusting its grip on the road. The behemoth of metal slammed back to the pavement, sending showers of sparks that looked like tiny fourth of July sparklers at the windows. Bubbles was thrown forward, her hip smacking against a railing hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. But she bit them back, trying to regain her stance as she threw her arms out to catch the back of a chair. The people were screaming at her now, all of them pleading for her to do something, but she couldn't hear them. 

The bus was crashing, careening down the street, scattering pedestrians and other drivers in its wake. Collisions sent the vehicle into even more chaos, as more and more people were thrown from their seats, and when the last tire blew Bubbles thought she heard another voice over all of the madness. Deep in her mind she knew what was happening, she knew they were about to crash, she knew people would die, and she knew who was responsible. She was trapped.

Tilting dangerously, the bus went barreling down main street, its shudders and bumps becoming angrier and more persistent with each second passed. They were done for, the driver had given up trying to regain control, and some of the people were praying. She would most likely be blamed.

But then in the distance, glowing hot in the shuddering headlights of the raging beast, Bubbles saw something that made her cry out with a mixture of joy and fear. Standing in the middle of the street, growing closer at an alarming rate, was none other than Buttercup.

***

_This really doesn't look good._

The bus was coming up fast, its size increasing rapidly at an exponential rate. But Buttercup wasn't daunted, she'd done this before. It was lucky she'd been on that street, or Townsville would have had a major catastrophe on its hands.

_Stop, just stop!_

Buttercup knew she was in no real condition or strength to take on such an intimidating foe, but she was overcome with her own sense of duty to turn away. She felt tired, and almost reluctant as she started running towards the bus, hands open wide to catch the prize.

_Stop! Just stop!_

She wanted more than anything for it to magically come to crashing halt. This time she was afraid, and grew even more scared as the screeching hunk of metal grew closer. For some reason, something was telling her to run, that this bus was going to pulverize her.

_Stop!_

And as she continued to move she suddenly grew insanely tired, like all of the energy had been sucked from her by a giant vacuum. Buttercup skidded to a halt, the bus moving ever closer, the headlights now pounding against her body. She didn't run, she didn't move, but her breath continued heavy in her throat. Her head felt limp and watery, her eyes burning and the rest of her body draining quickly with fatigue. She wasn't going to be able to stop the bus, but she had to try, even if it killed her.

_NO!!! STOP!!!_

And she threw up her hands, her breath leaping from her lungs in one solid rush of air. Her eyes widened, and for a split second she felt them burning with glow. She breathed,

"Oh god…"

Her arms still outstretched, ready to catch the bus in a futile embrace, she closed her eyes tightly. She expected the blow, any minute now…. Any second now…_ANY DAY NOW!!_

Over the grinding roar of splitting, sparking metal Buttercup never made a sound. She stood, with her eyes shut tight to the madness, her face turned and her posture tense and prepared for the hit. But soon, Buttercup began to get impatient, as seconds inched into horrible minutes of stark nothingness. No blow ever came, and in fact, the screaming seemed to have stopped too. But she still felt the lights on her, harsher than ever before.

Buttercup opened her eyes, and leapt backwards, screeching raggedly as she took in the scene before her. Just inches from her, staring her down in the face, was none other than two glowing orbs of light. She shielded her eyes from the sudden onslaught, finally able to take in the entire scene before her.

The bus had come to a crashing halt just as it had been ready to mow her down. It was leaning badly on one side, the dented and torn metal giving it a horribly obscene look. The interior of the bus had gone dark, and as Buttercup squinted to see the inside, trying at the same time to ignore the light of the headlamps, she quickly ascertained that she couldn't see a damn thing. There was the tiniest shimmering tinkles of shattering glass, and just faintly, Buttercup picked up the scent of gasoline, growing stronger as the time went by, a strange _tick tick tick_ of a stopped engine above it all.

For moments, everything was silent. Buttercup's body still just barely recovering from the ordeal. She was tired, and felt beaten, her entire being just having gone through a very serious stressor. Her limbs were tingling and numb, her heart thundering and her head felt light with the onslaught of adrenaline to her system. The air around her had gone very still, and Buttercup stumbled backwards, trying to survey even more of the damage.

Then something caught her eye that made her spin around, a scream rising to her lips like the cry of a beaten animal. Finally, after all this time of enduring her sister's ranting, screaming and crying, Buttercup finally saw the source of Bubbles's distress, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

Up in the buildings, silhouetted against the moon was one of the most intimidating robots Buttercup had ever seen. It's sleek form glimmered brightly in the moon's light, its limbs thick and outstretched as if ready to pounce. Buttercup just barely made out the shape of it toad-like face, with two glowing slits that must have been illuminated eyes. She'd seen robots before, but there was something about this one that held a certain mixture of grace and brutality unlike anything she'd ever seen. Its knee joints were bent , ready to propel it into a jump, and Buttercup followed its line of visions all the way back to the bus, and after a few scant seconds she finally put two and two together.

"BUBBLES!" She cried, suddenly leaping into action, her fatigue very quickly forgotten as her body went into panic mode. She spun back around and kicked off the ground, running towards the bus's teetering door, just in time to see her sister emerge from the wreckage.

She looked like hell, her face puffed and red from tears, her hair a rat's nest, and her clothes were ripped in various places. She was limping just slightly, her hands lolling weakly at her sides as each step was a stumble, the source of her pain seeming to be one of her thighs. She saw Buttercup, their met eyes, and Bubbles nearly collapsed with what must have been relief.

"BUBBLES! IT'S HERE!! WE HAVE TO RUN!!"

Bubbles choked what was either a response or a symbol of her grieving panic, and she fell forward, nearly falling as Buttercup caught her. The passengers escaped the bus in droves, some of them supporting each other, but none of them gave the two girls a second glance as they fled, some of them spotting the robot amongst the rooftops.

Then just like that the robot was gone, and Buttercup felt Bubbles suddenly seize up in her grasp, her gaze darting around to find the robot's position.

_Damnit that thing is fast…_

There was a thunderous crunch from just above them, and both of them turned upwards abruptly, only to find the hulking shape of the beast just above them, standing on the newly dented front end of the bus. It was glowering down at them, and strange eyes angled downwards as it stared directly at Bubbles. Bubbles started screaming frantically, some of it unintelligible words, and some of it cries of the purest terror. Buttercup felt tears well up in her own eyes, she felt her own body turn into floppy jelly as her mind fed off of her sister's own fear. But her overly protective instinct hit the override button, and soon she was dragging Bubbles away, her sister stumbling in her grasp as they tottered away from the fallen bus, her trembling form light in her arms. Buttercup risked a glance back, and saw to her horror, that the robot had moved its perch to the ground.

Without thinking, Buttercup stopped, causing a renewed slew of screams from Bubbles. She threw Bubbles forward onto the ground, and spun herself around, taking a few running leaps towards the metallic monster. It was walking now, its lumbering, yet agile steps carrying it forward with a sickening pace, carelessly showing off master-craftsmanship with each fluid step. It moved towards Buttercup, but its focus seemed to be on anything but her. She didn't care, she had to destroy it, because it meant to tear her sister apart.

Screw the past jokes, screw her past impatience with her baby sister. Now was the time to act, because her life depended on it.

"Buttercup! NO!" Bubbles's sobbed behind her, now clearly on her feet, but Buttercup didn't turn to face her. "IT'LL KILL YOU!"

Buttercup threw her arms back to ward Bubbles away.

"GET OUT OF HERE! RUN!" Buttercup said, feeling her own whimper rise to her throat as she quickly realized, the robot was almost an arm's length away. She readied herself in a fighting stance, clenching her fists, her fierce gaze turned up at the beast before her. It continued forward, and soon is towered over her, blocking the light from her vision.

Then it finally noticed her, and Buttercup growled, readying her stance for a pounce, preparing her entire being for a fight. But the robot was too quick, and before Buttercup could react, she felt a solid swipe as the robot swatted her backwards like a harmless fly. The wind was knocked from her lungs as her entire upper body crumpled inwards with the solid blow, and she came to a crashing halt in a pavement crater some ten feet behind the scene.

Completely dazzled with pain, Buttercup rolled over onto her stomach, wincing as the raw, throbbing section of her body came into contact with the crumbling shards of stone beneath her. At first she almost thought she couldn't move, her body protesting so violently with quick, rapid stabs of intense pain that she thought her entire rib cage had shattered. But in seconds it subsided, and she stumbled from the ground just in time to see Bubbles fall.

She was pushed backwards, crying so loudly it bordered on screaming. Buttercup felt her blood boil with rage as she saw the robot tower over her sister. One of its arms was extended into a shining blade, its deadly edge glimmering in the light of the street, its end ready for a kill. She tried stumbling forward, every fiber of her being struggling against the biting pain as she limped towards the scene of murder in front of her. All of her thoughts were frantic and disillusioned, all of her wanting nothing more than to see this robot flattened.

Bubbles was backing herself away, her face turned upwards as the robot lumbered closer to her, its strides easily overcoming all of her efforts to move in the opposite direction. Buttercup screamed for her, but Bubbles never reacted. Stretching her hands out, her face so twisted with agonized terror, Buttercup screamed one final time just as the robot moved its arm back for the kill.

A blood curdling roar then followed, and in her disillusionment Buttercup couldn't comprehend the scene that bloomed before her like one of the most terrible flowers. As if gaining a life and vengeance of its own, the ruined shell of what was once a bus suddenly leapt from its still sleep on the cold pavement, rumbling a wordless growl as it jerked forward, finally crashing back down to smash the robot beneath it. 

Bubbles had leapt out of the way just in time, rolling sideways into a building as the explosion kicked off just inches from where she'd been on the ground, shards of metal and glass bursting like a bomb.

There was once again deafening silence, so much so that Buttercup couldn't take it. She felt as if all the blood in her veins had just gone to ice, every inch of skin on her body flushed with vibrating heat, creating a sick contrast in feelings. She stood, half leaning, half falling with sheer weakness as her bleary gaze searched for Bubbles. Finally she found her, stumbling towards her with a face so white it could have been carved in snow.

Buttercup's head suddenly split open with a torrential migraine, so suddenly overcome with nausea and weakness that she was sure she was going to die. Her throbbing head felt empty, so completely devoid of life, as if every particle of thoughts had been smashed to bits by a hammer, and as if every shimmering piece of electricity had been snapped so abruptly it left her very disoriented and confused. Her head, something felt so wrong with her head. She was so sure it was going to crack open and fall to the ground.

Bubbles was upon her, and she was talking, but Buttercup couldn't hear her. Her gaze was straight ahead, every lingering ounce of strength fighting off the urge to vomit. Her eyes fluttered weakly, and a surge of energy rushed through her, making her head give a sudden spurt of pain. She couldn't take it anymore. Everything was buzzing, and spinning and she just wanted to sleep.

Finally, almost unable to breath, Buttercup passed out.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

****

Raven beauty- Ah, such kind, kind reviews. I am truly humbled. In case it isn't obvious, my fav is actually Blossom, that's why a lot of the story (and a lot of Inner Turmoil) is from her perspective, only because I think I can relate to her more. Oh, a song actually reminds you of my story?! See, I have this funny thing, where I'll start picking out tons of songs by various artists that totally put me in the mind of my story. If you ever listen to Evanescence, yeah, complete mirror image.

Author's note at bottom (to lessen spoilers)

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 18

It was probably around midnight when Blossom awoke to the sound of screaming.

At first she thought she had been dreaming, her eyes gummy as she tried to blink the lingering remnants of sleep from her lids. Blossom's subconscious imagination had been playing movie reels since she'd hit the pillow, and it felt strange to be so rudely interrupted from her bliss by sounds of such terrified panic. 

Groaning pathetically, she sat up slowly, the covers splayed awkwardly across her body, her hair falling in unnatural curls around her face, and she haphazardly threw the comforter to the floor. Sitting up in bed, she took a few moments to let her heart settle from the sudden jolt, and soon she was fully aware, but still didn't quite know what was happening. The only thing she did know, was that she really wanted to flatten someone for waking her so late.

"BUTTERCUP!!! BUTTERCUP!!!"

It took Blossom mere seconds to register Bubbles's voice in her auditory functions, and it took her even less time to read the intense distress in her sister's choking voice. Blossom could hear the professor's voice among Bubbles's cries for help, and he seemed to be on the verge of shouting. 

Then it hit her like a baseball bat to the face. They'd both been gone when Blossom had gone to sleep. Something had clearly happened, and judging by the absence of Buttercup's harsher voice in the uproar, something had happened to _her_.

Blossom was suddenly very wide awake now, and she nearly shot out of her room, just in time to see the professor drag Buttercup's prone form to the couch, where he set her down gingerly across the cushions. She stopped at the top of the stairs and watched with horror, as Buttercup's limp arm slid over the edge of the couch where it hit the floor, her wrist bending oddly as her hand crumpled to the side. Blossom couldn't see Buttercup's face, or most of her body for that matter, because the professor was blocking her line of vision. He was crouched over Buttercup, carefully, but hastily stuffing a pillow underneath her to support her head. Blossom wasn't sure if she wanted to see, afraid of what would meet her eyes.

She covered her mouth to ward off the scream that was rising quickly, and she felt her entire body go tense with the tugging anxiety that threatened to pull every muscle from her limbs. She suddenly felt like she wanted to run, the warmth in her face almost too much to bear as she watched her nearly-dead sister lie silently on the couch. She didn't dare say a word, but continued to watch the professor's back as he looked Buttercup over.

Then a sudden sniffle diverted Blossom's attention, and she turned to see Bubbles, pressed up against the fireplace. Her saucer eyes were zoned in on Buttercup, her jaw set as she stared blankly, almost like she didn't believe what she was seeing. Blossom looked Bubbles over carefully, and could see that her body was shaking. Her clothes were nearly torn, and there were dark smudges of dirt and grime all over her legs and skirt. Her normally sparkling hair was so destroyed, that Blossom wouldn't have been able to recognize her, if not for her radiantly blue eyes, which were now unpolished and dull.

Bubbles suddenly turned her gaze and met Blossom straight in the eye. At first Bubbles gave a startled leap at suddenly seeing her sister standing above her, but a second later she was staring at Blossom as if seeing her for the first time in years. Her face looked so shocked and frightened, that for a second Blossom thought she was looking into the past, staring into a shadow of what Bubbles once was. Bubbles didn't say anything, but her expression told her enough. Something terribly traumatic had just occurred, and Blossom wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know if Buttercup had been hurt.

Blossom rushed down the stairs and stopped next to Bubbles, who was still watching her carefully. Their eyes locked for a short while, then Blossom finally spoke,

"What happened?"

"Attacked…" was all Bubbles said, and her lower lip quivered as if a horrible memory had just resurfaced in her thoughts. Blossom bit her lip nervously, anxious to be told what happened, but not willing to grill her sister for information if her reactions were going to be unreasonable. She knew Bubbles was going to be hard to get anything out of, so instead she turned to where the professor was still looking Buttercup over. What she saw caused a flood of relief to wash over her. For her sister wasn't horribly mutilated after all.

Buttercup's eyes were shut, her gaunt face white as snow, creating a strange contrast with her stark ebony hair. She looked very closed and weak, her breathing shallow, a frail chest jumping weakly like a stumbling bird attempting to fly for the first time. There was a tear in the front of her shirt, and Blossom stared at her sister's partially concealed stomach for a long time, not sure if what she was seeing was actually blood.

The professor noticed this too, and he pulled up the bottom of her torn shirt, exposing her swollen abdomen, a fresh bruise just starting to bloom. A thin linear cut slid just under her rib cage to her hip, and it was oozing dark blood, thick like pressing the innards slowly from a pile of grapes. For a second both Blossom and the professor just stared. His hands had frozen, and Blossom was sure that his face had suddenly drained of color at what he was seeing. Blossom could feel the feverish white in her own skin at the result of her shock

"Bubbles, what happened?" the professor finally asked, his voice strangely calm. But when Bubbles didn't respond, he exploded.

"GODAMMNIT WHAT HAPPENED?!?!"

And Blossom nearly leaped out of her skin, jumping backwards with a panicked gasp as the decibels of their normally placid father shattered the limits. He had never screamed before, not like that. Standing so close to him, she had taken the full force of his anger, and felt the full weight of that negative impulse bearing down on her.

Bubbles screamed, her cry echoing through the spacious living room, a direct result of being the object of the professor's anger. He had never yelled at her before, and Blossom could definitely tell that she didn't exactly need that added stress at the moment. She already looked bad enough, without having her father scream at her, which in itself was a rarity. Blossom felt bad for her, so bad, that she could almost fool herself into thinking the professor was yelling at _her_.

For a second Blossom thought Bubbles was going to keep her mouth shut, her haunted gaze shifting into a steely glare as her and the professor met eyes. Her breathing was rough, and her shoulders heaved as a burst of angry words threatened to explode from her mouth. Blossom tried catching her sister's gaze, shaking her head nervously, trying to cage her sister's rage, but Bubbles never looked at her.

"She tried to help me… and passed out…" Bubbles said quietly, and looked as if she would say more, but after a few moments of silence nothing happened. The professor stared blankly, his teeth clenched , his jaw visibly very tense, but before he could say another word to her, Bubbles turned and fled from the room. She ran into her room and slammed the door. Blossom watched the door, expecting Bubbles to reemerge, but she never did. She suspected that her sister was probably crying.

Buttercup stirred, and both Blossom and the professor shifted their attention back onto her. She didn't wake, but she made a small whimper in her throat while trying to shift her body, but something was obviously causing her great pain.

"Blossom, go get some water for her… and a towel," the professor said quietly, grabbing a blanket from a chair next to him and unrolling it. Blossom hesitated for a beat, not wanting to leave Buttercup's side.

"NOW!" he bellowed, and yelping like a wounded dog she turned and ran into the kitchen, her hands shaking as she poured cool tap water into a glass. Now he was yelling at her. What a fantastic Sunday this was turning out to be.

She grabbed a clean towel from the rack against the wall, and crept back into the living room cautiously, eyeing the professor like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Tiptoeing carefully, afraid to set him off and disturb her wounded sister, she moved back to the couch and handed the glass to the professor. He grabbed it hastily, tearing the towel from her grasp, and proceeded to wipe the blood carefully from Buttercup's skin before lying the soft blanket over her.

"W-what's wrong with her?" Blossom stuttered quietly, fearful that any sort of words would upset him further. He didn't reply, but instead, he tipped Buttercup's head up gingerly and brought the glass to her purple-tinted lips, dry as parched paper. Her eyes fluttered weakly, but she never made any motion to signal that she was aware of anything.

As soon as the cool water touched her lips there was a sudden explosion in her. Buttercup gasped, and shot upwards, screaming in pain as she did so, knocking the glass violently from the professor's hand. It flew across the room, and Blossom had to duck as it sailed over her head, smashing into the brick fireplace behind her. Buttercup whimpered again, and her eyes rolled as her body went into a sudden convulsion from what must have been pain, incredible pain, for her face bled whiter than ever before.

"Buttercup!" Blossom cried desperately, but she didn't respond to her calls. Buttercup didn't seem to be aware that either of them were hovering over her. She collapsed back down onto the couch, making fumbling grasps at her abdomen as she continued to groan weakly. The professor was breathing heavily now, visibly anxious and afraid, because in such a tense moment, neither of them really knew how to deal with this emergency.

"D-Do I need to call an ambulance?" Blossom asked quietly. Suddenly regaining a small shred of composure, Buttercup lashed out.

"NO! I'M FINE!!"

"But Buttercup, you might have some broken ribs, you need to see a doctor-" the professor started to say, trying at the same time to restrain the girl who was still thrashing in her attempts to sit up. "Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"  
Buttercup relaxed, and heaved a great big sigh, like she'd just pushed a ton of weight off of her chest, breathing freely for the first time. Her breathing evened, and she closed her eyes softly, her face regaining her color one ounce at a time.

"I… I'm fine… It's already getting better… I just got knocked around is all… nothing new…"

"You're already healing?" the professor asked incredulously, not willing to believe that she was free of pain. Buttercup snapped her eyes open and looked at him scornfully. 

"I'm fine… now would you stop treating me like a little girl?!"

The professor backed away just slightly, still crouching, but he looked at her with a clear air of impatience. He looked none too pleased with her.

"This all goes back to what I was saying to you before… you've made yourself so weak, that you can't even-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture, I got hurt because I've lost all my strength, that's what you're saying isn't it?"

"Buttercup, he only wants to help you, we just want to help you-" Blossom started to say, finally unable to bottle her emotions up any longer. Buttercup rounded on her, lifting her body just slightly on the couch.

"Who asked you, Red?! I don't need any of you so concerned about me-"

"Buttercup, you're destroying yourself, _and you're just no good anymore_!!" Blossom screamed, but as soon as it flew out of her mouth she instantly regretted it. Buttercup's eyes hazed over with anger, and she narrowed her brows just slightly, the smallest hint of a tear gathering at the corner of one of her almond eyes.

They stared each other down, none of them flinching. After what must have been forever of them just matching eyes, the professor shuddering in his own rage, they were interrupted by the reemergence of Bubbles from upstairs. She had stopped at the balcony, clutching a wad of tissue in her hands as she peered down at them with bleary eyes. 

Buttercup turned her body to look up at Bubbles, and as soon as she saw her, she burst into an incredible display of tears. Blossom moved back, puzzled, and the professor shot a glare up at Bubbles who seemed to be undaunted by the chaos around her. Nobody knew what was happening, and nobody knew what _had_ happened, and clearly nobody was going to readily get any information out of both parties. It appeared as if for now, they would have to deal with the situation at hand, and learn the facts as soon as things settled, because they weren't going to get anywhere presently.

The professor leaned forward and tried to console Buttercup, wrapping her tightly in a smothering embrace. She was mumbling something through her sobs, something that Blossom couldn't really understand, but thought with a stab of horror that she was saying something about someone getting killed. 

"Buttercup, did someone die?" Blossom asked stupidly, knowing full well that she shouldn't have opened her mouth at all, for the professor gave her the iciest stare he had ever given anyone. All this screaming, all this anger and negative energy… she had to be alone… she couldn't take it anymore.

Blossom turned and ran, not aware of where her body was really taking her, but somehow she ended up in the professor's study. She could still hear Buttercup screaming, she could still hear the professor trying to calm her, but she wasn't listening. Sitting in the dark room, not bothering to turn the light on, Blossom kneeled down on the floor and cried, every hopeless thought and feeling inside of her looking for a release.

Then she heard it as much as felt it. A comforting warmth that snaked around her body, wrapping its thin tendrils of heated life around her shoulders. She gasped, at first surprised, pausing in her jolting sobs to let her mind understand what was happening. But she didn't need to think long, because she soon heard a voice, a thick manly purr that was unmistakable..

"Blossom, please don't cry, I'm here to comfort you…"

"Him! Leave me alone!"

He materialized just behind her, taking full shape in the darkness, his form solid against her body with his arms tightly around her in a strangling embrace. Something about Him on this night in particular was frightening to her, and she wanted him off of her.

"But Blossom, who else do you have to confide in on this most confusing night… I assure you, it can only get worse from here on…"

"You know about what happened?"

"Blossom… of course I know what happened, and I should say it wasn't pretty in the least…"

Blossom couldn't fight off her tears any more than she could fight Him off of her. He clearly wasn't going to budge, at least not yet. She sobbed heavily, and Him only clutched onto her tighter, so tight that she could feel the compression in her lungs. She only cried harder, out of her own mortal fear for her life, for her sisters, and for her own sorrow at never being told what was happening. Blossom didn't have the slightest trace of a clue as to what had transpired a short while ago, and she felt hopeless and useless at not being able to help with anything. She had only managed to get herself in the way.

"Then… what's wrong with Buttercup… why is she screaming?!"

Him sighed, and she could feel the heat of his breath as it passed over her neck. She shuddered inwardly, feeling vibes radiating from him that made her stomach quease over with a tense chill of fear. Something wasn't right at all… this was very bad…

"Buttercup…she is just letting too much eat away at her body. All of her emotions… they're destroying her… and she's falling deeper and closer to the end…"

"W-what do you mean?" Something about him saying _the end_ disturbed her the most. There was something very haunting about his tone, something sinister, yet so full of a passion that she could never begin to pinpoint.

"Oooohhh… her weakness has left her useless, as you so eloquently put it my dear…" his voice hummed sweetly, and for the very first time Blossom was terrified, not of death or of pain, but of something very different. She could feel her defense responses kicking in, her muscles seizing up in his arms, her fists clenching in preparation to defend herself. She shuddered heavily, her eyes squeezing tight against the madness as she felt the soft warmth of his tongue slide against her skin. Her body froze in response. He was trying to seduce her, now, in this time of her family's ultimate peril. It was selfish and cruel, and she wanted no part in it… Yet, she couldn't muster the strength to push him off of her. He was too close, and too strong, and he would only hurt her if she fought back… but… she couldn't…

"No…" she breathed… her voice barely audible in the still darkness. He drew back.

"No?" he returned her words with a soft sneer, his voice harsher than before.

"Get away from me… now, before I hurt you…"

"Hurt me, Blossom?" he said silkily, letting a shred of humor slip into his voice. The bastard actually thought it was funny, and that just enraged her even further.

"I said… leave me alone before you set me off…"

"Ah, but I must turn you on first…"

Blossom felt her anger spill over around her, her eyes clouding over with reddened rage at the inappropriateness of his words. She spun her body and shoved Him hard, pushing him away and causing him to fall backwards onto the floor. She crouched low, meeting his eyes, a clear look of anger driven defiance playing across her features. He continued to stare, his eyes fierce with an unspeakable hunger, something so powerful that all Blossom wanted to do was run.

"Blossom… you're letting all this emotion eat at you as well, very soon, you'll be no better off my dear… you're going to make yourself so weak… you must let me comfort you…" Him said softly, his tone more softer than before. She glowered at Him, almost not comprehending what he was saying, not even able to believe what he was asking of her.

"How shallow do you think I am?" she sneered, feeling her face grow hot. "The only thing I care for now is my sisters… I want you to leave. Now," she said with force, her voice firm yet hushed.

Him crept slowly forward, crawling on the floor, his head tilted lightly to one side, staring her down with airy adoration in his eyes. But there was also a blooming fire of malevolent desire that she could see in his face, something so cruel, that Blossom somehow knew it held more meaning than him just wanting to destroy her. He was out for more than just her innocence, and at that moment Blossom exploded. 

"GET OUT!!!" she screamed, and she lunged at Him, intending to latch onto his skin with her nails, every fiber of her body wanting to tear him to shreds. But as she fell against the floor, crying out as her body connected with something harder than expected, she found that her hands were filled with nothing more than airy black smoke. Him was gone, and all was silent.

The professor had carried Buttercup to her room as soon as he'd gotten her to calm down a bit. The house had settled, and Bubbles had retreated to her bedroom, closely followed by Blossom, who's expression seemed largely more disturbed than when she'd left. Buttercup had barely been able to keep her eyes open, her ranting fit mixed with her unbearable weakness had siphoned out the last remaining bits of strength that she'd had left, and she'd fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the pillow. 

The professor kept vigil by her bedside for over an hour, constantly checking her forehead for any sign of a fever, but Buttercup never stirred. She slept on, never moving, her dreamless sleep engulfing her in peaceful darkness. As she slept, the professor saw her face regain its true natural color, and her breathing strengthened as the minutes ticked by. Satisfied, the professor finally retreated to his own room almost two hours later.

But as soon as he left Buttercup was assaulted by nightmares. Hellish dreams that clouded her sub consciousness with hidden messages. She heard voices in the dark, and a black, oily mass of shadow crept over her, speaking in soft musical tones. She breathed it in, absorbed it, and soon its words rang clear and vibrant in her beaten mind. This was her shadow, it was her pursuer that had been slowly killing her since the school term had begun. It had finally decided to show its true nature, and its message was clear.

_Buttercup… It's time, my dear…_

She thrashed about silently in her bed, no sound ever escaping her lips, but her face displayed the confused emotions that battered the remaining ounces of purity in her soul. At first, she tried to fight, her body disparately trying to wake herself up, but soon she found that she couldn't even will her muscles to move. She tried to struggle, but the soft warmth of her demon caressed her, lulling her into a place of safety and comfort, and her body seized to move.

_Think of what that nasty Blossom said… she doesn't care for you… none of them care for you… you've needed help for a long time… but did they seek it for you? I should think not…_

Her heart thundered in her sleep, and she could just barely feel the pounding pulse as it ripped through her limp body. Everything grew warm, and tense, a vibrant buzzing in her head, pounding against the sides of her skull as if wanting to break free. For a second, the shadow drew back, alarmed, but soon it crooned a soft snickering laugh.

_It's no use now my dear… all is too late… you're just useless now… too weak to be of any service to anyone…_

The voice grew fiercer, hotter with devilish anger as its words continued. It was no longer the sweet, comforting voice from before…

_It's time to end it… Buttercup… kill your body and your soul will be at peace… with me… forever…_

Buttercup woke suddenly, leaping up in bed as the last remnants of the soft voice lingered in her head. She couldn't think straight, and felt as if she'd momentarily stepped from her body, unable to control what her muscles were doing.

Slowly she stood from her bed and walked to the bathroom, and shut the door, making sure to lock it behind her. 

Somewhere, someone was laughing in the dark, because very soon he would have what he _really_ wanted, if everything played out right.

****

Author's new note: As you can probably see where this is headed, I wanted to say a word about what's happening. If you have no clue, then don't read on.

I want to make it clear that I do not in any way encourage the use of suicide to solve any problem. For I have been touched by such tragedies, and by using such a topic, I feel I can incorporate my feelings on the subject and how it affects loved ones. If this somehow offends you in any way, I am truly sorrow, and just wish you could have the respect to not leave any unnecessary flames. And if it means that much to you, Buttercup is going to be just fine in the end.


	20. Chapter Ninteen

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 19

Bubbles couldn't seem to sit still, and Blossom wasn't entirely sure why.

They both occupied their room, the two of them silent beyond any sort of conversation. Neither of them really knew what to say, and Bubbles didn't in the least look as if she was in the mood for chatting. Blossom desperately wanted to ask her what had happened, to get the facts straight and to calm her overly anxious mind, but by the look of her sister's pacing she was anywhere but in reality.

She paced back and forth quickly, constantly glancing out of Blossom's circular window like she was expecting something to be outside. Blossom watched her for a while, curious, at the same time trying to come up with something to say that was consoling. Altogether she seemed traumatized, and her expression, while just slightly panicked, held a far-off, haunting gaze in her eyes that made Blossom want to keep her mouth shut.

Blossom looked at the clock, and was surprised to see that it was already nearly three AM. It was a good thing it hadn't been a school night, or they would have all paid for it dearly in the morning, if they'd even bothered to go to school at all. After an ordeal such as the one nearly three hours ago, none of them were in the mood for learning, even Blossom.

Bubbles finally stopped pacing and stopped cold in front of the window. Her body stilled, and she watched silently as the moving lights of Townsville twinkled in the distance. A late-night traveler hummed by in a car, and for a second Bubbles's face was set on fire with lively white glow. The hot sapphires of her eyes, while just for a brief moment, were sparked to life as the headlights passed by the window, creating an unnatural radiance to her features. Her expression, while magnified by the sudden light, only became more intense with the added aid in visual, and Blossom finally felt it was time to break the ice between them.

"Look, Bubs… why don't you get some rest…" Blossom said coolly, standing from her bed and moving a few steps towards her sister. Bubbles turned to her just slightly, her expression very grim.

"I won't be able to sleep…"

"Well," Blossom said, sighing, feeling a tense tightening in her patience. "Why don't you at least lie down and try… Buttercup's fine… and she'll be better in the morning…"

"But, I'm not fine…" Bubbles said blankly, her eyes shifting into a surreal mechanical stare that reminded Blossom all to much of one of Mojo's robots. Blossom opened her mouth to say something in response, but Bubbles turned on her heels and swiftly disappeared behind the sheet that separated their room. Everything was silent after that, and instead of following her, Blossom decided to give her some privacy for the night, and figured she'd be okay in the morning.

Blossom sat back down on the edge of her bed and nervously drummed on her knees, thinking hard. She was trying her hardest to forget what had transpired between her and Him earlier, but was finding it difficult to drill it from her brain. Just thinking about it made a sickness well up in her stomach that she couldn't describe, and a hopeless regret battered around the insides of her skull to no avail. She should have said something to her sister's sooner. She should have told them about Him earlier. How could she have allowed something like this to linger on for so long? It was certainly too late now. She'd angered him, and had definitely shattered any sort of civility that had sprouted in such an irregular relationship. There was no telling what he'd come back and do to her, and the possibilities were endless and terrifying.

But she'd never cared for him, at least not in that way. Had he seriously been thinking that she'd developed those sort of intimate feelings for him? Surely he wasn't that naïve, for he had always seemed much more intelligent than about ninety-nine percent of the people she'd always come across. The thing that was bugging her the most was the idea that perhaps she had been sending him signals unintentionally, leading him to the conclusion that she'd been more interested than what was true. Or perhaps she hadn't at all, and he just didn't care. He had certainly always believed that he had the right to anything he wanted, and Blossom suspected that he made no exception when it came to potential intimate partners.

She shuddered, closing her eyes tight against the world around her. There was a tingling in her gut, an all to familiar region where a certain scar laid, one that she could never forget. He'd given her that scar, and he'd tried to end her life before. There was no guarantee that everything in the last few months hadn't all been a big scam to screw with her even further, ultimately ending in her destruction. She had to remember that, and she had to keep telling herself that she should have been more careful before. She should have told someone, and she needed to keep her mode in the right line of perspective so that she'd stay more alert. Now it was a time for caution, and she had to be ready for anything. Everything that had happened tonight, remembering the fear that had moved her to action, had only reinforced what she'd thought at the very beginning. She could not trust Him, under no circumstances whatsoever.

Blossom stood again, looking around her room for something to occupy herself with. As long as she wasn't alone, Him wouldn't come, at least she hoped.

But finding that there was nothing to keep her busy, she decided to go and see if the professor was still awake, for she had heard him stir less than an hour earlier. There was still the fact that he'd yelled at her, and anal as she was, she wanted some form of closure on the state of the mood between them. To put it simply she wanted to offer some sort of apology, because she could never relax if someone was upset with her.

Creeping out into the hallway, Blossom noted that the house was silent. Slightly disappointed, knowing that her father had probably fallen asleep for the night, she considered just for a moment trying to go to sleep herself. But, the prospect of slipping into a mode of unconsciousness, now that Him was very obviously displeased with her, didn't seem like a very desirable affair. She remembered how he'd slipped his way into their dreams before, very nearly killing them in their sleep through their nightmares. Now that he was pissed, she figured there was no limits to what he'd try. After all, he'd nearly succeeded that time, and if he wanted to ensure a place where they wouldn't be disturbed and he was guaranteed a kill, then Blossom figured that would be the first thing he'd do.

She was thinking on his level, the way she always had, and that was exactly what put her in this turmoil in the first place. She was an equal, and there was only room in this world for one of them. Him knew this too.

Blossom opened her door all the way and padded out into the hallway, straining her ears for any movement, any sound that would tell her the professor was awake. There was absolute silence, unsettling silence, and there was a tense energy in the air that made her feel as if terrible misfortune was about to befall them all. It felt like a disaster waiting to occur, one that would never be avoided, one that had been stewing for a long time.

_About to? It already has._

Blossom breathed evenly, and stopped just short of the professor's door. It was cracked open, and the light was on, so Blossom decided to take a chance and peek inside.

She gripped the edges of the thick white door and slowly pushed, poking her head around the edge as it brushed the thick carpet beneath. She took in the room, and found the professor sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to her, staring out the open window with his elbows planted firmly against his knees. Blossom didn't say anything, afraid to disturb him in his thoughts, but didn't want to turn her body to leave. He had always been the last ounce of sanity in their house, and she needed that type of company now more than ever. But, judging by how he'd lost his temper earlier, she wondered if his thick outer shell of a sound mind was finally starting to crack at the pressure.

After a few moments of silence, sensing the change in atmosphere, the professor turned his body around and met Blossom's baleful stare. He studied her carefully for a second, drinking in her pained expression, before his own face fell in a deeply tortured frown. After another second of this, he held out a firm arm to her, an obvious beckon for her to come closer. She heeded the call instantly, and rushed into the room, her eyes spilling over with the tears of stress.

Blossom fell against him, trying to stifle her tears, but unable to calm herself despite the smooth warm arms around her. The professor held onto her tightly, burying his face into the softness of her hair, the sweet gesture of fatherly comfort she'd been craving all evening. There was something in the deepness of his breathes that told her, he wasn't angry anymore.

"Blossom… I'm sorry…" he said finally, a thickness in his voice that told her he was on the verge of his own tears. "I'm sorry I yelled at you…"

Blossom nodded, her head tight against his chest, listening intently to the swift bleating of his heart against his ribs. She wanted to say something, but couldn't think of a single word that was even appropriate. All she wanted to do was lie in his arms forever and never let go, because just as she had in her own hospital bed, tight in his arms, she felt protected. Not from physical harm, but from the emotional kind.

"I'm just frustrated… with your sisters… with everything… I'm tired of being in the dark like this… I'd always thought that you would tell me everything… and now I feel so secluded…"

Blossom sat up and clumsily rubbed at her face to wipe the sticky tears away.

"You think you're clueless? They don't tell me a damn thing either… they haven't been telling me anything, and its like they're both part of this secret moping society that we aren't members of…" Blossom said thickly, her voice heavy with her emotion, croaking like the frogs she always heard outside her window.

"And now Bubbles… she's pushing me away… my happy little girl… and Buttercup is collapsing… and they both walk in here beaten in the middle of the night… screaming… I didn't know how to react… I'm losing my mind and I never thought I would…" he said, his voice calm, but his face anything but. His brow was deeply set, showing the rarely seen lines of age on his angled face. For a second Blossom almost didn't recognize him, because his expression was the saddest she'd ever seen.

"Its okay professor, you don't have to apologize to me… I understand… I'm surprised you kept as calm as you did. I would have erupted ages ago…"

"That isn't the point Blossom… I feel as if I should have been doing more. I've been so caught up with work… I should have paid more attention to you three…"

Blossom sat up straight and looked out the window, peering into the darkened windows of the neighbors behind their house. The night seemed quiet, and the sky was clear, the stars blinking down at her with their own words of reassurance. She felt the professor's soft hand brush a thick chunk of her bangs from her eyes, and she turned to him with her eyes down, her cheeks blushing a soft pink.

"I'm really not very good at this fathering thing, am I?" he said quietly, continuing to his brushing swipes as if it was a task he'd been assigned to. Blossom looked up immediately, completely startled.

"No! That's a horrible thing to say… none of this… it has nothing to do with you… it has everything to do with me. I've always been… sorta' their internal caretaker, and I've just gotten so careless and reclusive. They've gone astray without me… and you… you've been the greatest father in Townsville…"

He looked at her blankly, almost embarrassed, his eyes wandering nervously to other points in the room.

"Think of all the nonsense you've had to put up with… because of us… now this… is the worst ever I suppose… but we've always made it through everything…" Blossom stopped and hugged the professor again, and he returned the gesture with much gusto, holding her tightly.

"I don't like yelling at you three…" he said quietly, kissing the crown of her head gingerly. "I love you honey, you know that if you ever need to talk… to tell me _anything_, I'm always here…"

"I know. I love you too professor."

"I just wish your sisters knew that."

They sat there for a good while, holding each other in the soft honeyed glow of his bedroom, watching the moon make a trail across the sky. The house remained silent, and the only noises that shattered the peace were the soft creaks of the walls and floors. After a while, Blossom heard someone enter the bathroom, and figuring it was Bubbles, she ignored it.

Then, she felt her body jump to high alert. There was a presence, a strange one, and she could feel its noxious waves moving through the very bones of the house. She perked up, sitting fully upright, jacking up her sensitive hearing to pick up any noise that was out of place. Was it a burglar (HA!), Mojo packing serious heat? A monster?

Was it Him?

The professor noticed her distress and went silent, watching Blossom carefully as if he'd become deeply interested in whatever she decided to do. Her gaze turned to the wall, a blank stare of concentration but her eyes saw nothing. The only sense she put into action was her sense of sound, and at that moment there was nothing.

Then as if an elephant had been airdropped onto their roof, there was a bellowing crunch from somewhere above. Both Blossom and the professor jerked spastically, surprised, their breathing speeding up simultaneously as thick, thudding footsteps moved above them.

Blossom stood quickly, her eyes trained upward, waiting for anything to come tearing through the drywall of the roof. She held the professor down with a solid hand, and pushed him to the ground for safety, just in case anything decided to come crashing through the large fragile window that stood before them.

Then all quieted, calmed, save for the thunderous rapping of her heart, her stress responses putting her body into fight mode. Finally she regained her vision, her eyes darting from corner to corner in the professor's room, but she saw nothing.

Then she remembered Bubbles, the vision slapping into her hard enough to bring her back to her senses. Bubbles was still healthy enough to fight. Blossom needed her help, because something was about to attack.

Blossom left the professor's side in a whirling flash of glowing pink, re-entering her room in record time, Bubbles's name rising to her lips in a pleading scream for help. She tore the curtain away, certain she would find Bubbles sleeping, but what she really saw came as quite a shock.

Bubbles's side of the room was empty. She was gone.

Blossom shivered, feeling cold air eat at her body almost instantly. Instinctively she looked to the window, and immediately put two and two together. The window was open…

Running to the window, she leaned out into the night sky, her eyes scanning the darkness for her sister, or for the attacker from the roof. She saw nothing, only inky blackness, broken by the occasional house light or street lamp. There was nothing on the street.

"BUBBLES!"

There was no response, and Blossom turned her body to look to the roof, to see if the strange visitor was still above. Everything was once again silent, the last remnants of her scream bouncing through the night air.

Confused, and slightly hysterical, Blossom brought herself back into the room, feeling her body shake with high adrenaline. She closed the window, her body overcome with a fit of tremors, both from cold and rage. Bubbles had ran away… _that little brat ran out on us… while Buttercup is lying ill in her bed… that little bit-_

"She isn't here Blossom…"

With a frantic yelp Blossom spun around, raising her arms in retaliation to a blow she was certain would come. Him stood behind her, his face devoid of emotion.

"She left."

"I NOTICED!!!"

"Blossom I really think you should calm down, because I come bearing a rather important message."

She stared at Him in disbelief, hardly fit to believe the words he was saying. Who did he think he was, barging in on her after he'd just nearly tried to take advantage of her? She was in no fit emotional state to entertain his nonsense, given her high state of panic and alarm. Bubbles was gone, and someone, or something had been on the roof, and now Him was standing before her, trying to act casual as if nothing had happened between them just hours before. The whole situation was positively revolting. Blossom was angry at Bubbles, she was angry at Him, she felt desperate for Buttercup, and she didn't have the faintest clue what had just decided to stomp around on the top of the house. 

Whatever it had been, it was gone now. What had it been doing anyway?

"Were you on the roof?" Blossom asked Him through her gritted teeth. She could feel the tenseness of her jaw, the chords in her neck tightening with rage like a support wire ready to snap under intense weight. Him examined his claw leisurely just as a person would turn their gaze to their fingernails when bored. This pissed Blossom off even more.

"You seriously aren't very high on my list of favorite people right now…"

"Oh, I think I will be once you let me finish what I was… going to say," his voice shifted into the leisurely drawl that had always made her hair stand on end. It was strange to hear it now, after all the time they'd spent together he'd kept his voice low. Him was strange that way, changing the octaves of his voice whenever he felt like it, and during their evenings together, he'd always spoken in the deeper masculine tones. Now, he reverted back to the chirpy falsetto that had always made his character so unique, but Blossom only found it even more aggravating. It was almost like he was mocking her.

"Fine… then-WHAT?!"

"Well, I would think twice about leaving you're sister alone with sharp objects. She's liable to do something stupid… especially with her degree of strength and the right… _persuasion_…" his voice changed again, into something so thin it was like listening to air moving through a tunnel. He looked at her squarely, his green eyes very focused and glimmering, and Blossom though she saw the faintest inkling of a grin on his lips.

"W-what?!" She didn't quite understand what he was getting at, but at the same time her mind was quickly putting the pieces together. Alone… sharp objects… _oh no… noooo…_

Without giving Him a second glance Blossom ran towards him with the doorway to the hall as her goal. Instead of stepping aside Him disappeared, leaving a shadow trail of shimmering smoke in his wake, dispersing rapidly as Blossom ran through it. She shivered… _so hot… like running through fire…_

But that was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She ran straight for Buttercup's room, only to find with horror that her sister's door was wide open. Blossom skidded to a halt just outside the doorway, moaning with exasperated panic as she saw that Buttercup was nowhere in sight. She wasn't in her bed.

Turning frantically, Blossom went to the next door, the bathroom, and slammed against it. She rapped hard, hoping to god that Buttercup was just brushing her teeth and that everything would be fine.

"Buttercup?! Are you in there?!"

There was no answer. Blossom froze for a beat, not sure of how to react, and not understanding what was happening. She knocked again, harder. Still no answer.

"Buttercup?!"

She was in there alright. The light was on, and Blossom could see the golden sliver from beneath the crack under the door. She was in there… _she's not responding… something's wrong…_

Blossom didn't want to believe the truth, but she knew she was right. She was finally understanding exactly what Him had meant… _He's the devil… he knows this… oh god, please let her be okay…_

"BUTTERCUP! I'M GOING TO BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN UNLESS YOU OPEN UP!!!"

"Blossom, what in the world is going on?" the professor had emerged from his room, his face very anxious. He watched Blossom cautiously, unsure of what was going on and not wanting to get in the middle of it. 

Blossom stepped back, preparing to kick the door down, not paying any attention to the professor who was standing a mere four feet away. She felt panicked, every piece of her overrun with the fear of knowing, of knowing what she would find. She was nearly in tears.

Then, as if someone had flipped a dial to slow motion, the door slid open, a choking cry emerging from the widening crack. Blossom screamed, and the professor cried out harshly as Buttercup fell through the doorway to the floor. In an instant Blossom was upon her, catching her in mid-fall as she mumbled a pathetic yelp of fear. Her body was flimsy and limp, her limbs shaking with fatigue. The two of them sunk to the floor, Buttercup's dead weight bringing Blossom down onto the ground. 

Then Blossom saw blood, lots of it. It was everywhere; all over the floor, the bathroom, and it was covering her sister like a thick wrapping. The professor screamed again, crying loudly as he dropped to the floor next to her, latching instinctively onto both of Buttercup's wrists… her wrists… Blossom saw-

Buttercup had cut her wrists open, something Blossom hadn't seen right away, but the professor had zoned in on it instantly. She'd harmed herself… her purity…and now she was bleeding her life away on their hallway floor. For a second Blossom saw herself, back in the laboratories, lying on the cold stone, wasting away in a pool of gummy crimson. As if finally being shown the light, Blossom realized the terror her family must have felt on that night, because she was overflowing with it; it was slapping her hard in the face. 

In mortal fear Blossom scooted away, gasping heavily for the air she was having trouble taking in. She stared dumbly at her sister's poor, closed in face, her fluttering eyes, her ashen skin… her whole body was shaking… she was going into shock.

"BLOSSOM GET HER A TOWEL!" The professor was screaming again, not out of anger, but this time out of fear. Blossom wasn't thinking straight, and through her jumbled state of mind she did the first thing that came to her mind.

"STOP YELLING AT ME!!!" she bellowed back, her voice jumping to the loudest she had ever managed. In her haste, she grabbed her sister's limp body, tearing Buttercup out of the professor's grasp. He fell back, completely affronted, his eyes widened with enraged horror. For just a brief instant, Blossom looked deep into Buttercup's darkening eyes, and saw her sister's last ounce of strength, pleading for help and forgiveness, but it was fading fast. The real Buttercup was deep inside of there, lost and confused, hurting, and losing touch fast. Buttercup must have managed to cut in deep, because the blood was thick, and she was losing at an alarming rate.

"Go now-" Blossom said very abruptly, before she lifted her sister from the floor, not caring as splashes of blood dotted her bare knees, sliding down the skin of her calves. She turned before the professor could say anything, and ran, not caring how she was going to get there, but knew where she wanted to be. She'd hoped she'd never have to see it again.

It was time to repay the favor her sister had granted her months ago.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 20

It was one of the quiet nights in the hospital. Not many people stirred in their rooms or the hallways. The light was dim, casting gray shadows throughout the corridors, jumping and twisting as the few late-night doctors and nurses moved past, disturbing the calm serenity of the darkened atmosphere. The air was hushed and cool, chilled over from the breeze of many open windows, whispering gently with the calm hush of lowered voices, broken only by the randomly placed calls of the singing intercom. It was quiet, the middle of the night, or early morning if you wanted to be technical, and most in the hospital ward were snoozing. All except for Blossom and the professor.

They sat quietly together for a long time, neither of them able to think of the appropriate words that would match the mood. They were confused and exhausted, emotionally battered beyond the point of recognition. It had been a long bumpy road with Buttercup, and the one shred of hope they could both pull from this madness was the fact that maybe it was all over.

Buttercup was fine. At that moment she was sleeping soundly, her face the most relaxed either of them had seen in months. Her body had quickly regained its strength as soon as she'd been stabilized, her wrists now wrapped tightly in thick bandages to cover the threads that were pulling her skin back together. At first it had been chaos as soon as Blossom had burst into the emergency room, pleading for help as she dragged her sister through the sliding doors. Blossom wondered if it had been the exact same commotion when Buttercup had dragged _her _in; loud, confusing, chaotic… surreal.

But soon everything had calmed, the only sound lingering the hushed voices of the other occupants as the story of what happened spread. One of the Powerpuff Girls had been admitted into the emergency room, one of them was hurt, maybe even dead; one of them had failed, somewhere, somehow. Blossom knew it wouldn't take long for the news to spread to the media.

_Bubbles… wherever you are… maybe you'll see it… maybe you'll hear…_

Her sister had been missing in action ever since Him had told her what had been going on. Bubbles had disappeared, and neither Blossom nor the professor had the faintest idea where she would be. The first thought that had popped into Blossom's head had been to call Dexter, but then she'd realized that she didn't even know his phone number. Only Bubbles knew that.

The professor had arrived moments later at the hospital, and had found Blossom waiting for him at the entryway, her face almost breaking into relief. The hard part was over, and now they had to wait. It was all they could do. They sat down in the lobby for a while, quiet at first, but then they began discussing Bubbles and what to do about her absence. As far as they knew, she didn't know about Buttercup, and assuming she would want to know, they had to figure out a way to find her. Finally they decided they would wait until the morning, until Buttercup was stabilized, and then Blossom would journey to Dexter's house to ask him if he'd talked to her or seen her. She at least knew where he lived. having walked there once with Bubbles on her own way to the grocery store. Bubbles had run away, why, they weren't sure, but they both figured that he would be the first person she'd go to.

Soon after a nurse came to greet them, her face pleasant, a good sign that everything was okay. She had the brightest blue eyes Blossom had ever seen, with long blonde hair pulled back to match. She was tall, with the long slender legs of a dancer, her body gliding with the grace of someone who had been trained to move with poise and beauty. As she moved towards them, her eyes sparkling with the good news, Blossom thought for just a split second she was looking at someone very familiar. It was like she'd seen her before, or perhaps another member of her family without even realizing it. Those startling blue eyes were very familiar, but Blossom soon forgot about it as soon as the nurse opened her mouth.

And there they were, sitting next to their green-eyed girl while she slept. They were allowed to stay with her, and Blossom preferred that, because she knew she wouldn't have been able to stand that lobby for another minute. People were staring, their faces betraying a mood of curiosity that she was sure the entire city was feeling right now, at least the people who knew. They had to come up with something to tell the press, because they sure as hell couldn't tell the truth.

So there they sat, watching Buttercup sleep as the minutes rolled by. Blossom had been staring at the ECG for the last hour, watching the bright blip trace the movement of Buttercup's heart, remembering when she'd seen her own heart on that screen. It was strong, mirroring the real Buttercup that Blossom knew was still there, just waiting to come back out. Buttercup was the fighter, she'd always been, and what had happened was almost too unbelievable to seem possible. That was why the whole ordeal had barely passed over Blossom's mind a second time. It was just too strange, too horrifying… and coincidental to have even happened at all. Why, why had she tried to end her life?

Buttercup moved, whimpering softly in her sleep as she let her head droop to one side of the pillow. Blossom broke her attention from the monitor and stared into Buttercup's face, absent-mindedly tracing the lines of her features with her eyes. The round curves of her thin, well-kept brows framed the graceful arch of her just slightly sloping eyes; eyelashes like the wisps of fine, blackened threads, caressing defined cheeks that lacked the remnants of sweet baby-fat she'd had left over from her younger, more adolescent and torturous years. Blossom looked deeper into her face, studying the flow of her round lips, the definition of her hardened jaw, the delicate flatness of her nose; finally actually _seeing_ everything that made her who she was, a single shred of her features that she saw in her father almost every day, and even saw in herself.

But there was something else, a very exotic look about her that Blossom had never actually seen. But finally able to really see Buttercup, Blossom could now find that something was very different about her in particular. It was the eyes. There was something in the feel and the motion of her eyes, as they spilled like sideways tear drops against her face; something that was not in either her or Bubbles… but it was in the professor.

What it would have meant to lose her, and to never be able to see that face again, alive and breathing. It was too painful to even imagine, and just the mere thought of it brought a tightening to Blossom's throat.

All together she looked stronger, her face lacking the gaunt, sickly quality it had taken on over the past month. It was as if those few minutes of medical help had made all the difference, and as if some strangling hold of a menace had suddenly disappeared, and recovery was underway.

"Professor…" Blossom finally whispered, drawing her finger across the top of Buttercup's hand to secure the thin sliver of tape the shimmered lightly in the shadows. Blossom recognized the needle that was now slipped securely beneath her skin, and felt a familiar prickling in her own hand where it had been.

The professor turned his head to her, his face still visibly upset, but he spoke in a calm, soothing tone.

"Hmm?"

"What happened?" Blossom asked him quietly, shivering in the depressed atmosphere. She'd promised herself she'd never set foot in an emergency room again, but here she was. As minutes passed, it was starting to get to her.

"I… don't really know…"  
"No, I mean _how_… How did she do it, professor? I had always thought we couldn't be hurt that way… not like that… How was she able to do that to herself?" It was a question that had been eating away at her for hours.

When the professor had arrived at the hospital, he'd first been very silent. But after a while Blossom had asked him what happened. Once she'd left he'd stayed home and attempted to clean the mess, but had become so emotionally distraught that he just couldn't continue on. He'd told Blossom what he'd found, that Buttercup had somehow taken the pair of scissor in the bathroom and jabbed open her skin, using all her strength to break through her unnaturally strong epidermis. At first it hadn't occurred to Blossom how this had even been possible. Yet in the silence of Buttercup's hospital room she had been able to let her mind wander, and soon she'd come across the question of how exactly Buttercup had been able to hurt herself with such a mundane object.

"I… I don't really know… unless its true that with your strength… you can inflict damage on yourself with… anything…" his voice died away, signaling the fact that it was a subject too painful to speak of. Blossom agreed, and felt it was as good an answer as she was going to get. Others couldn't hurt them with average things, but with their increased strength… then they could hurt themselves. It was a thought that really wasn't comforting at all.

The professor sighed after another long, awkward pause, and he lazily lifted his hand to peer at his watch. Blossom could tell he was exhausted. She was too, but yet knew she would never be able to fall asleep. There was just an itching intensity inside of her that was burning like hot coals, keeping her mind alert, yet her body still felt increasingly sluggish as the hours wore off. She knew that her father probably felt exactly the same.

He rubbed his face with his hands sleepily, taking a deep breath as he leaned forward in the chair he'd been occupying for hours.

"I'm going to call the house… maybe she went back home…" he said calmly, his voice holding a futile hopefulness that was the only thing keeping him from panicking. They all knew Bubbles could take care of herself, but no matter how hard they had always protested, he always seemed to worry about them. Blossom knew she couldn't blame him, nor could she ever change his mind, and deep down she accepted his sometimes too overprotective nature. He was just doing what father's did best.

The professor stood and left the room silently, his absence almost passing as unnoticed except for the fact that Blossom watched him leave. The room was calmly still, the steady beeping of Buttercup's heart the only real obvious break in the mood, save for the early morning risers that moved about the city beyond the window. The incessant beeping was starting to drive Blossom crazy, and she tried hard to block it from her mind and concentrate on the other sounds coming from the open window.

But it soon became hard, because Blossom became aware of the most peculiar sensation. She could feel eyes on her from somewhere, and there was a piercing stab at her senses as a presence entered the room; not from the doorway. Blossom scowled into her knees.

"Getting a little careless aren't we?" She said into the darkness. The presence drew back with a delighted snicker, but then returned with an even stronger attack against her awareness. Him took shape in the room, and Blossom could feel him behind her. She could almost feel his breath against her neck. Blinking hard, she grimacing with utmost irritation as he moved closer.

"I thought you would have received me a bit more warmly than that. Aren't you thrilled to see me?" he said smoothly, the sweet tones of his voice quiet but penetrating.

"I'm ecstatic."

"See, there you go again, being all defensive. I merely came thinking you would thank me…"

Blossom stood up suddenly, quickly enough to momentarily surprise Him, causing him to step back. She caught her own breath in her throat, startled to see Him so close.

"Thank you?! After what you tried to do to me?!" she raised her voice a bit louder than what would have been necessary, and she shot a hurried glance at Buttercup to make sure she was still sleeping. Out like a light.

His expression wavered into something of blissful unawareness, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. His eyes cast down, making his long, thick black eyelashes visible in the gloomy light. He almost looked sad.

"Yes… you're right… I deeply apologize…"

"Apology not accepted!" and Blossom spun back around and dropped herself back into the chair, looking to the door anxiously, wanting the professor to come back soon so that he could free her from this unbelievably uncomfortable madness. The room went very silent again, and Blossom almost thought Him had left, except for the fact that he decided to move just then, announcing his continued presence.

"Blossom, you know I could have just left your sister to die… but I didn't…" he said quietly, his voice floating towards her from behind. She gritted her teeth, knowing she should be grateful, but she couldn't bring herself to thank the bastard. That would mean she trusted him, and truly appreciated him, but she didn't want that to be the truth at all.

"How did you even know about it anyway? You were spying on us, weren't you?" she said icily, not daring to turn in his direction. There was no answer for a beat, but then Him finally spoke.

"Blossom, you do understand what she was trying to do?"

Blossom didn't reply for a while, flashes of what had happened earlier charging through her brain in spontaneous bursts like a bad dream. She knew exactly what her sister had been trying to do, and the sudden resurgence in that clear thought only brought a stab of anger to her already bitter mind.

"Yes…"

"I knew, simply because of what I am Blossom," and Him finally moved closer, a certain fire in his voice that was full of unrelenting passion. She shuddered at the feel of his natural heat so close to her, but she dared not turn to look, not wanting to invite any unwanted occurrence.

_Just go away… just go away…_

"Because of who I am… the nature of your sister's act brought her under my watchful eye…"

_Professor… where the hell are you?_

Blossom trembled, not out of fear, but out of Him's shadowy influence now overpowering her. There was something very commanding about his presence, something very cold and controlling about his voice, no longer high pitched. She didn't know how to react or how to respond, so she continued to stare into her sister's sleeping face, longing desperately for the same kind of escape that Buttercup was now enjoying.

_How could I have let myself get in so deep… I can't turn back now…_

He has me… I've made myself too open to Him.

"What do you want?" she said pathetically, bringing her knees up to her face and holding herself tightly. She couldn't bare to look into his face, nor could she stand to look into Buttercup's face. All of this was her fault. If she had paid more attention… if she had just tried harder to love her sister, then none of this would have happened at all…

"Blossom, your sister was in the act of committing a crime so hellish, she would have come under my influence forever… Suicide is a mortal sin, Blossom. It is a crime against your own soul… and for that you are punished… for eternity…"

Blossom looked up, back into Buttercup's face again, and almost burst into tears. The thought of her own sister's suffering, her own flesh and blood in tortured turmoil for the rest of all the known days; it was just something she couldn't even begin to understand the magnitude of. It was a torrential storm of confusion that was now raging inside her, looking for ways to escape by means that Blossom could never begin to grasp. Buttercup would have been gone. She would have been dead, her physical form gone forever, but her spiritual form forever in Hell… with Him…

But he had actually done her a favor. He had saved her. Him could have taken Buttercup as his own… and he would have been able to wrestle total control over Blossom's already shamed family. He could have had one of the Powerpuff Girls as his own instrument, his own plaything, as penance for all the pain and anger they'd put him through. It would have been the perfect triumph, a climax to the struggle they'd endured for so many years… but…

Him hadn't let Buttercup finish the gruesome act. His intervention had saved her life… and for that… well, to Blossom she felt it had to mean _something_. Now she owed him, and a strong feeling in her gut told her that she knew what he wanted.

Blossom stood and turned to face Him, his face carefully obscured by the shadow of the room. He was looking down on her, his lamp-like eyes full of a grace that Blossom could feel boring into her face, bringing her skin aflame. A lump formed in her throat as her mouth went as dry as dust, the incessant stare of his eyes causing her heart to flutter rapidly.

"I… have to ask you something…" Blossom said calmly, her voice small yet strong. She was so very confused, and didn't know what to make of the demon standing before her. Was he out for her blood? Or had he had a change of heart? There were so many conflicting images and memories battling it out in the deep crevices of her judgment, that she had trouble deciphering which was true.

Him didn't reply to her, but remained silent, watching her calmly as his eyes urged her to continue.

"Why did you do it? Why, when you could have gained so much from letting her die?"

"Because I couldn't do that to you…" his voice tapered off into a near whisper, his breath a cool wisp against her skin. His eyes remained on her face, but Blossom turned away, feeling her face turn red with bashful shame at the thoughts that were swimming through her.

"Are you in love with me?" she said very abruptly, but her voice soft like the tiniest chime carried in the wind. She kept her eyes down, not wanting to meet Him's gaze, but some part of her desperately wanted an answer. She wanted some form of closure.

"Love?" he repeated calmly, but there was a certain briskness to his voice that Blossom almost thought bordered on disgust. She felt something inside her sink at his tone, obviously negative, and at the same time she couldn't understand why she was disappointed at all. She had been so sure… yet at the same time he almost seemed to be lying. He was notorious for that.

"I cannot _love _anyone, Blossom. That is a mortal emotion, a weakness, one I am not subject to feel." His voice wavered, almost to the point of sounding anxious.

"W-what? Then what is it you want from me?! Why have you not left me alone in months?! Why have you tried time and again to… to…" She couldn't finish what she really wanted to say, because she couldn't figure out how to say it without sounding ridiculous. Him snickered softly at her lack of articulation, the sharpness of his teeth clearly visible in the glimmering gloom.

"Because…" he said quietly, leaning in close, causing Blossom to almost fall backwards onto Buttercup's bed. "I merely enjoy your company… and isn't that the natural course of events for you mortal _lovers_?"

Blossom was completely mortified.

"No!"

"Just because I can't fall in love… doesn't mean I can't enjoy the benefits of… say… a rather comforting relationship…"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and now wanted nothing more than to push Him out of the window, just so that she could get him away from her. She wanted nothing to do with him, she wanted him out of her life, and just the thought that he would have used her in such a demeaning way… well it made her insides burn with rage.

"Who ever said we were _lovers_?! I merely asked out of curiosity if-"

"Now we discuss payment… my dear… I did you a favor… and all I ask for is a small favor in return-"

"If you think I'm going to sleep with you, then-"

"Oh no, no, of course not… I had much smaller things in mind" Him said casually, a flicker of a grin twitching at his lips. He leaned in even closer to her, eyes marking her.

"…Just one kiss… that's all I've really ever wanted… just to see…"

Blossom suddenly felt unbearably warm as her face blushed, her heart beating rapidly inside of her as words failed to serve her. What in the world could she say now? How could she refuse him? She didn't want to kiss him, but knew that he would never give her peace unless she did. From experience, she knew only bad things came from refusing Him's demands. Had all of this time really been for just one kiss? If he could never love anyone, then why would he want to share such a moment of intimacy with her… Unless, it just didn't mean anything to Him. But if that was the case, she didn't want him anywhere near her.

"I…I…" she stuttered shyly, but couldn't string a sentence together before it was too late. Him suddenly jerked forward, pressing his lips onto hers with so much force that she stumbled off of her balance with whimper of surprise. She was falling, and panicked as she realized her sister would wake as soon as her own body hit the sheets, but Him caught her before she fell too far backwards. Blossom pressed her hands against his shoulders in a desperate attempt to push him off, but he only gripped her tighter, holding her firmly around the small of her back with his claws. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting it to end, wanting to stop the feel of his body up against her own, knowing she could do nothing. But Him drew the last straw as soon as he attempted to part her lips.

With a sudden spark of fear Blossom mustered the strength to shove Him back and away. He let go, his eyes wide and full of his own fear, not from Blossom's sudden revival in power, but from something else entirely. Blossom felt her head swim in a hazed storm of confusion, her blood boil at the mere sight of Him. But at the same time there was a tingling of terror in her that she couldn't explain. It was a desperate panicked fear, one that was so confused and lost she didn't know where to place it.

For she had not pushed Him away from her own disgust. Something had happened to her, inside, to the very visions of her memory. Something had exploded in her with so much force and spontaneity that Blossom couldn't pinpoint where it had come from. It made no sense, and only frightened her to the point of panic.

As Him touched her, as they'd connected in that brief interlude of forced passion, Blossom had felt something slip into her brain, flooding her thoughts with strange images and confusing words. There were voices, tiny floating voices that breathed words completely incoherent to her, almost as if they were words from a foreign tongue. The images were quick, so quick she could never see any of them long enough to decipher what they meant.

__

-Something… a flash of finely crafted steel… a spray of blood… rain… I can't see anything… but… a building… a temple…-

But just as soon as the images appeared, they vanished into thin air, leaving Blossom very dumbfounded and confused. Something in Him's touch had triggered a reaction in her mind, something had happened that shouldn't have, and judging by the expression Him now wore, he was surprised as well. It had almost been like… a connection.

He tilted his head, a wide-eyed stare adorning his gracefully curved face. Him eyes Blossom warily, watching with her with placid caution as if she'd explode at any moment. Blossom returned his stare, her own eyes just as wide as his.

Then Him finally straightened, his face breaking into a wide, sinister grin. He looked Blossom over, his eyes roving her body in a very studious manner, and she backed away in protest.

"Well, well, well… I would have never expected this from you. This does complicate things a bit…" Him said gingerly, before spinning into a poofy whirl of smoke and disappearing. Him was gone.

Blossom remained where she was for minutes, trying to figure out exactly what Him had meant. She couldn't come up with any answers, so finally she let herself relax. He was gone, at least for now, and right then she had more important things to take care of.

Wiping of her lips roughly, she turned back to face her sister, who had since moved again in her sleep. One arm was carefully draped over her eyes, the other nestled at her side. She looked so rested and at ease, that Blossom felt envy over her sister's naivety. She didn't know what was going on, and it just wasn't bothering her, and she was all the better for it.

Blossom sat back down in the chair, hearing soft movement from down the hallway that announced the professor's return. She looked down at her knees again, wondering where in the world her other sister was hiding, and wondering why she felt so weird after Him kissed her.


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 21

After about the third brush with death, Bubbles was starting to think the suburbs didn't look quite so pretty anymore.

She took a hard right, dodging a whirling ball of electricity as it skidded past her, leaving a sooty trail of blackened concrete in its wake. Bubbles ran through grass, the soft texture a temporary relief from the hard cement she'd been against for hours. She wasn't paying very close attention to where she was going, but from brief aware glimpses she thought that she possibly recognized the neighborhood.

Yet she couldn't remember how far she'd run or how long it had been since she'd escaped from her window. X had somehow crawled out from beneath its ruined bus of a grave, and had tracked her, finally, all the way back to her home… where her sisters… and the professor were. She knew her only option had been to run, and hearing the thudding steps just above her only solidified the notion that there just wasn't any time left.

So she'd started running as soon as she'd slapped against the driveway, just avoiding the hood of the professor's car by inches. She'd turned and started down the street, blindly passing houses and cars in her flee for survival. Bubbles had been too busy running to really pay attention to where she was going, and soon realized that when she nearly ran straight into the beast itself.

That had been the first near-death experience. As soon as she'd turned a corner it had been on top of her, clearly anticipating her arrival from around the dense shrubbery. Bubbles barely had time to arch her body backwards to avoid its solid swipe, as it reached for her throat, but just as she avoided the first blow, the second one came, hard.

It was an iron fist against her face, shattering the silence in her brain with the ringing inside her ears, and the terrified scream that lurched from her throat. Bubbles flew back, her throat closing in with the panic that came with the taste of her own blood, with the warmth of it sliding down her cheek and from her nose. She fell back against the road, the blood splashing around her as her body slammed down hard. It was in her mouth, dripping down past her tongue, and she could feel it coating the inside of her belly with a slick, oily mass that nearly made her throw-up right then and there. She coughed and gagged, trying to free the thickness that pressed against her esophagus, but between her rapidly beating heart and spinning vision, it was difficult. The only thing that brought her to her senses was the shadow that grew closer, blanketing her in darkness.

Then she knew she had to flee, that she still had a chance. Her head hurt, her cheek was split open, but she knew she could still run. And that she did, barely missing X's fist as it drove a futile grasp into the ground to claim its grounded prey. But Bubbles was just too crafty for the metallic beast, and knew she had to survive.

Bubbles was nearly killed again, detouring through a dark yard and getting caught in a thicket of dense rose bushes that were practically invisible to her eye. She escaped, but not without causing a huge ruckus that resulted in many neighborhood lights coming ablaze at the disturbance.

Despite that, she'd been trying to stick to yards ever since, cutting corners when she could and trying to put as many obstacles between her and X as possible. It had worked to some degree, slowing X down just slightly as it struggled to keep its focus on her small, quick form. Eventually it would always regain its target on her and charge at full speed, crashing and crunching through things in its way.

So here Bubbles was now, just emerging back out onto a separate road, trying to run back into the housing blocks that would grant her some measure of safety. That was when X had taken out its weapon, and was now firing highly charged blast of silent energy her way. Silent, making it almost impossible for her to judge where they were coming from behind her.

The third one came fast, and Bubbles nearly ran right into it as she veered straight back into a yard and past a garage. She would run around to the back of the house and circle around, in hopes that she could throw X off of the trail, at least long enough to give her a chance to breath.

She turned, and risked a glance behind her, nothing, X was nowhere so she returned her attention to her path. Bubbles made a grave error right there-

"No!" she gasped, skidding to a halt at the edge of what was one of the largest personal pools she'd ever seen. She looked to the edges, frantic, knowing that she would have to run around it, cursing herself for not paying more attention to where she'd been going. If she'd fallen into the pool, X would have gotten her for sure. If she ran around it, that would only slow her down, and X would also be able to gain distance on her. If she stood there, well then, that was pretty self-explanatory.

The sides were too far, and she moaned in disbelief at her incredibly bad luck. She had to make a decision, quickly, so she decided she would make a run for it.

Turning ,she screamed, seeing the huge form of X bearing down on her at top speed. Bubbles stumbled back, losing her balance, flailing her arms for support but there was nothing there to stabilize her. For a brief instant she saw a window explode with light to her right, before she tumbled over and fell into the biting, icy water.

Everything was muted, every sound that Bubbles heard a murky jumble of nothingness. She couldn't comprehend what she heard, a consistent explosion of electrical impulses that came from somewhere… from some kind of weapon. There was light… lots of it… bright flashes of light that illuminated the form of X for just brief seconds. It was moving away… it was leaving… why… she'd forgotten she needed to breath… the chlorine was stinging her cheek, the pain making her want to sleep… Bubbles was so tired… she couldn't find the strength to pull herself up-

-A solid grip on the collar of her shirt… dragging-

-she kicked and flailed in the water, trying to free herself from X's grasp… strangely softer.

It only pulled harder, desperately… eagerly trying to drag her from the pool. In the water her strength was dampened, and she couldn't fight back. She only continued the pathetic struggle, her fists hitting nothing but water and stone.

Suddenly it jerked its grasp upward, forcing her out of the pool with careless force, smashing her face into the sanded stone that lined the edges. She hit her cheek where it was split, shaving it open with blinding, bleeding pain. Inky spurts of crimson clouds slithered through the water about her face, rising to the surface of the water just as her head broke the water line.

The grip was still there, but her eyes were so hazed over with pain and fatigue she couldn't see straight. She gasped for air, filling her lungs as she clawed weakly at the hand just by her neck. One foggy thought entered her brain just as she felt her entire body pulled from the water, by arms that seemed… just too small to be X…and the grip was much too soft… but all she wanted to do was sleep so that the pain would go away, so that she couldn't feel the pain when X killed her…

Her exertion finally hit her like a speeding train. Pain and sluggishness hitting her all at once, making her vision grow darker as she slowly slid into unconsciousness. She tried focusing, tried to scope out the position of X, but couldn't see through the water in her eyes. She moaned, and there was a hand on her cheek, and a form looking down on her that looked much to small to be X. In fact, just before Bubbles passed out, she thought she heard her someone saying her name.

Blossom was sleeping, her head tucked up close to where Buttercup's legs were wrapped in the warm bedding, her arms curled up close to her face to retain her own body heat in the morning chill. It wasn't known what time she had finally managed to fall asleep, unable to fight off the charge of her own emotional and physical weariness any longer. She dozed now, the late-night hush of the sleeping city now replaced by the blaring trumpets of the reawakened metropolis, the early commuters taking no time in making sure not to disturb those lucky few who were still slumbering. But she had been disturbed, knocked from her deep-dreaming state of swords and words she'd never heard before, brought back closer to the waking reality in which she really belonged. Back to the world where one of her sisters was missing, one of them had attempted suicide, and a demon was after her life. Sub- consciously, her brain kept her sleeping, if not to sustain that temporary bliss that kept her mind away from all the insanity, then to replenish her body to its full spirits once again.

It was cold now, the first thing Blossom noticed as she blinked her eyes open, her vision dampened by the fact that she was now staring through rumpled, blue sheets. She lay there for a scant few seconds, taking in the cold air, letting her body respond to the temperature drop one moment at a time. She was tired, her eyes heavy and gummy at her impeccable lack of sleep, and for a second she almost closed her eyes again. But that's when she realized that something was touching her head.

She jumped up, startled, her heart beating rapidly as she suddenly became very wide-awake. Looking around, Blossom expected the professor to be standing over her, but what she saw was completely not what she'd expected.

Blossom was staring into the face of her sister, sitting fully upright in her bed, her face doing a horrible job at masking the fact that she was amused. For a second Blossom couldn't comprehend that she was staring at Buttercup, and it took her a second to even recognize her sister, now so bright and full of more life than she had been in months. Her face was softer now, looking much less gaunt and sickly than before, and her eyes had regained that mischievous sparkle that had been with her forever. Yes, this was the true Buttercup staring back at her, grinning as if she'd just pulled off an amazing prank.

"You were moving so I thought I'd wake you up," Buttercup said calmly, her voice pure and strong, just the way it should be. Blossom blinked heavily, her tiredness returning with the double the force. Taking a deep breath, she searched around for some sort of clock, but there wasn't one to be found.

"What time is it?" Blossom croaked, sitting fully upright and falling back against the chair. Her eyes popped as her bare shoulders hit the chilled upholstery, and she jerked back forward, suddenly feeling very wide awake again.

"Ha. It's 7:30. I woke up thirty-minutes ago and the professor was here. Poor guy, I don't think he slept at all…" Buttercup said quietly, frowning.

"Gee thanks for waking me up… what were you doing awake at 7 anyway? You're never up that early unless you have to be," Blossom said smartly, leaning back against the warmth of the sheets she'd been sleeping on, trying to take back in some of the heat.

Buttercup pointed to the professor's jacket sitting on another chair in the corner, and Blossom grabbed it quickly, wrapping it around her body tightly to ward off the cold. Buttercup tilted her head to the side lazily and shut her eyes, the dark rings below them now gone.

"I think I've slept enough… besides… your fat head was touching my legs and it was getting on my nerves," Buttercup said, grinning evilly, but her tone was sweet as chocolate. Blossom pursed her lips in annoyance, taking no offense what so ever to Buttercup's rude little joke.

"Ha, ha, very funny…" she said, but couldn't help smiling, knowing that her sister was finally back. Blossom looked around, noting her father's absence, and suddenly she was very confused. "Where is he anyway?"

Buttercup readjusted the sheets on the bed and pulled them up closer to her body for comfort. She snuggled back in tighter against the high pillow and closed her eyes with relaxing intent.

"He said he had to take care of a few things, and then he was going to bring you something to eat," Buttercup said casually, unknowing as to what the professor had really been talking about. Blossom didn't respond, because she knew that those _few things _involved cleaning up the bathroom and the hallway where Buttercup had fallen just the night before. Blossom suddenly felt very sick with pity, knowing how traumatizing it must be for him to clean up his own daughter's blood, after she'd tried to take her own life. Especially if he was by himself, and Blossom suddenly felt the need to go and help him, but knew that she couldn't leave Buttercup alone. She kept it to herself, and tried hard not to let those nagging emotions become outwardly visible to Buttercup, because knowing her, she'd pick up on it instantly.

"Feel fortunate, because this is all I get…" Buttercup said with disdain, motioning to the tray of rather un-appetizing food that was sitting on a raised table next to her. She stuck out her tongue in disgust and shook her head, turning her body away from the food as if it was an obscene vision. "I hope he brings Bubbles back with him… I want to talk to her…"

_Bubbles!_

Oh no…

Why… why is it ALWAYS me?!

Blossom felt her heart fall, and her good spirits at seeing her sister so alert fail her. She had to tell Buttercup, she had to, because sooner or letter she was going to find out, and would only be even angrier if nobody said anything… but Blossom hated the idea of making her upset… but she had to swallow her cowardice and do it.

"Um… there's something I should probably tell you… and I hate throwing this at you so abruptly… especially after…"

Buttercup was suddenly very alert, her body upright and rigid as she stared urgently into Blossom's wavering gaze. Buttercup knew something was wrong, she had to, but Blossom, stupid her, hesitated.

"What is it?!" Buttercup cried, raising her voice, and Blossom was startled to the point of nearly leaping from her chair.

"It's just that… she disappeared last night… and we haven't heard from her since… We don't know where she is… and I was planning on this morning going and… well… asking around if-" Blossom couldn't even finish her sentence, because right then and there Buttercup exploded.

"YOU DIDN'T FOLLOW HER?!?! HOW COULD YOU BE SO IRRESPONSIBLE-"

"Buttercup! Stop yelling! I didn't even know she was gone until it was too late!" Blossom said back in defense, trying to keep her own voice and temper down.

"YOU SHOULD BE OUT THERE LOOKING FOR HER RIGHT NOW OR ELSE IT _WILL_ BE TOO LATE AND THAT THING-"

"Buttercup! What are you talking about?!"

"-THAT THING IS GOING TO FIND HER AND KILL HER!!"

"W-What?! What's going to find her and kill her?! What are you talking about?!" All of this shouting, all of this yelling about things that were going to kill Bubbles, it was making Blossom very confused. She had no idea what Buttercup carrying on about.

But then visions came back to her, all those nights were Bubbles came home late, bleeding, her sudden timid behavior, her habit to scream whenever anyone touched her or snuck up behind her, her attacking personality… it all made sense… it all fit… but in what model? Blossom started to panic.

"Buttercup! What's trying to kill Bubbles!?"

Buttercup was turning back and forth in the bed, as if looking for some way to escape, but was being held back by the tubes still stuck in her skin. She looked frantic now, her eyes popping and spilling over with tears, her skin white with fear.

"You don't understand! We have to go now! We have to leave!"

"Buttercup you have to stop shouting and tell me what's going on! What happened to you two last night!?" Blossom cried, glancing nervously at the doorway, knowing that sooner or later someone would come storming in to see what all the commotion was about.

"Blossom! IT'S THAT ROBOT-" Buttercup screamed, her voice raising but she stopped dead when-

Buttercup turned her body suddenly towards Blossom, and she lunged, grabbing the sides of Blossom's head with her clenched hands in her own confused panic. In an instant she stopped screaming, her eyes suddenly glazing over, her body freezing as every bit of life and color drained from her like dumping water. In that same instant, just as Buttercup reacted, Blossom gasped, her body turning to ice as she felt her muscles freeze over, her limbs go slack as she fell forward against the bed. Buttercup's grip inadvertently tightened on her head, and that was when Blossom started screaming.

It was like a vice, a tightening claw squeezing her brain, trying to crush it under its grasp. Every nerve in her body was on fire, with pain, and every bit of warmth and feeling violently flew from her body as if escaping, running from this force that was killing her. She felt it smash against her mind, against all her emotions, all of her memories, against everything she kept hidden away from the outside world. It broke through, attacking every piece of information her brain kept away, sorting through it, _seeing it_, learning it all, a violation like none other. And at the same time Blossom saw it all, every horrible memory, every fear, every terror she had ever experienced all the way up to her last traumatizing experience with Him; the kiss.

But it only grew worse, the pain in her head, in her very thoughts like that of driving a blunt knife through her skull, her vision blurring over with shooting, flashing stars, the edges melting into dark red and black. There was screaming inside her head, mixed with the chilling shriek like that of nails on a chalk board, and a voice, a screaming voice that sounded so much like Buttercup, crying and screaming.

But then just like that it was all over, a sudden release of energy, as if a plug had just been pulled from the socket of her brain; a violent release that threw her back against the chair, so hard, that the chair went flying backwards, and Blossom found herself on the floor. There were other voices in the room, other people, and some of them were standing over her, some of them were hovering over Buttercup, but they all sounded frightened. But Blossom couldn't hear them, she couldn't feel her body, and she couldn't think. All she could feel was a painful shock that ran through her body time and again, like the intervals of an electrical pulse… like she'd just stuck her finger in an electrical socket as a child. It was as if someone had torn her head open for all the world to see, for all the world to learn of her secrets everything spilling onto the floor like a dumped out pail.

Blossom realized she was shaking when she felt someone grab her. It was the professor, she could tell by the tone of the voice, the only thing that could pass the dull thumping in her ears. Her face was slack, her eyes sagging to the point of being closed, her dried mouth hung open like a corpse. She felt dead, un responsive, and somehow knew that she was bad off, but couldn't find the strength in her to cry out for help. The exhaustion took over, and she felt the professor scoop her up from the floor, wrapping a tight grip around her body to bring heat back to her spasming form. Minutes later she was sleeping, her dreams blurred with images of electrical storms, chasing her. To her horror, she found herself screaming all her deepest secrets at the top of her lungs, but the only one who seemed to be listening was Buttercup. There was an expression on her face like that of sudden revelation.

****

Confused? Good. You should be.


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo

****

Author's note: I can see it now. Many of you may complain that certain characters may be acting OoC. But I will complain right back to you by saying… THE CHARACTERS ARE OLDER. We have no idea as to how they'd act later in life. In consideration, this is a fan fiction, and merely my interpretation of the future, nothing more.

I'm curious to know how many saw _this_ coming.

Oh yes, keep some snacks and a pillow handy. This one is looooooong.

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 22

It was so warm and dark, that Bubbles wanted to sleep forever. There was a constant hum on her awareness, and a deep heat that encircled her body, tucking her in tightly to the softness of what must have been fluffed sheets. The noise on her hearing kept her in a droning doze, the pain on her cheek just slowly starting to inch its way along her nerves as her body began to bring itself back to the real world. The noisy hum grew louder, almost irritating to the point that she wanted to throw something just to stop its incessant racket.

Bubbles groaned, turning her head slowly on its side, her neck stiff and aching, the rest of her body joining in its protests. She hurt all over, every bone and muscle in her body pulsing with hot discomfort, finally able to cry out now that she wasn't fleeing for her life… fleeing… from…

All at once she jumped up where she lay, completely disoriented and just slightly panicked. Wherever she was, the light was faint, the room nearly covered in complete darkness if not for the lava lamp that was sitting on a desk across the wall. The orbs of gelatinous blue were floating in their ethereal patterns from inside the glass, emitting a comforting hum as the shapes slide along the glass. The hum… it had woke her up…

Bubbles cursed under her breath, blinking against the light, trying at the same time to let her eyes adjust to the dark. Nothing in the room was recognizable to her, and she could barely make out the miscellaneous shapes that that stood against the walls. She was sitting on a wide bed, sheets thick and spackled with bizarre shapes and covered in a thick layer of downy threads. Beside the lava lamp there was a bookshelf, so wide it took up just about the entire wall it stood against, crammed full with books of many sizes. The desk with the lamp had nothing overly special, except for the fact that there was a sparkling blue glow casting its light across parts of the room, spilling across every surface in the immediate area… including.

A person. There was a freaking person at the desk, slumped over like they were asleep. Bubbles's eyes suddenly went wide, and her body froze as her eyes traveled along the stranger's frame, down to the hand that was draped down the side of the chair. It appeared to be gripping something, tightly, but the rest of the body wasn't moving at all. The only evidence they were alive, was the constant rise and fall of their back, the deep even breaths of someone who definitely wasn't in the waking world.

It was like a horror movie. Or like one of those horrible video games that Buttercup played, where the entire time the character was surrounded by darkness, the only light from a tiny pocket flashlight stuck from the front of their shirt. Every shadow suddenly became very malicious to her; everything seemed to move and sway in time with her fastly beating heart, her body shaking beyond the point of control. Bubbles felt totally alone, the silence becoming too terrifying to suffer through any longer and the entire atmosphere seemed to be pressing in on her. Any minute, she half-expected X to come crashing through the window, or for this person to suddenly jump up and attack. That was just how strangely surreal the entire scene felt. She had to act, before this person woke up and found her trapped in the tightly-wrapped sheets. They were carrying a weapon. That was the only possible thing it could be.

Very slowly, Bubbles began to unwrap the bed sheets that covered her, wincing at the pain and the damp cloth against her skin. She was still wet, terrific, and just then she began to feel the chill of drying water sink through her skin without the barrier of blankets she'd previously had. Her teeth began to chatter, and she tried hard to drown out the noise, but it rattled inside her skull. Swinging her legs off the bed, she kept her eyes on the dark stranger in the corner, still fast asleep.

Bubbles stepped onto the carpet, instantly realizing that her shoes were missing, but quickly decided that it was the last thing she needed to worry about. It only made her quieter. She had to get this person before they got her, and she had to be stealthy about it.

Ever so quietly, she crept along the carpet, keeping her body low merely out of habit. Each step was painfully slow, her feet making hardly a sound as the figure grew closer. Bubbles kept her arms out for balance, her fists balled to attack, her eyes narrowing in the hunt… slowly… almost there…

She was so close… she'd have to hit before the stranger… a man…had time to wake and realize she was there… she had to be quiet…

Her heart was beating so fast, she was sure that just by itself it would wake the man up. Her mind was racing, her lungs screaming for the air her pulse demanded. But she couldn't breath, it had to be silent… no sound at all…

A quick blow… right in the face… she had to turn him around… he was so close… she could touch his shoulder…

Bubbles reached out… her hand shaking… wait… _why do I have to kill him? He saved me… but he's armed… I can see it right there… no other reason… wants to kill a Powerpuff…_

Without really thinking it through, her hand moved out, and she grasped onto his shoulder, hard, and at that same instant she suddenly realized she would be making a terrible mistake, something was screaming at her not to act, and that was the same instant that _he_ woke up.

The figure jumped, something crashed to the floor, the weapon, and he stood quickly out of the shock of her grip. He turned, and Bubbles screamed, her hand knocked away from his shoulder. In that moment of pure haste he grabbed her, cupping a hand over her mouth just as she lost balance and both bodies fell onto the floor.

"SHH! Bubbles! Stop screaming!" He hissed, his teeth clenched in unquestionable fear, his voice so familiar. Her body relaxed, on instinct, because sub-consciously, Bubbles just realized who she'd been about to attack.

"MMMMMMPH!!" she mumbled, the pitch of her voice high as her eyes could finally see just who was pinning her to the floor. Her breathings till ragged, she could finally let her hyper-active mechanism of defense calm. But just as that old fear left her, a new emotion took over as she realized that he was lying on top of her, completely oblivious to what was happening. Suddenly, Bubbles felt really warm.

"You'll wake my parents up!" He whispered again, not as urgent, but still tense. Bubbles nodded, and vigorously pulled his hand away.

"D-Dexter?" she squeaked. "What are you doing here?!"

"I live here," he said quietly, his face relaxing in the dark, still not realizing that they were both in very awkward positions. "Why else would I-"

But he cut off instantly, just as a sudden harsh light spilled out from underneath the doorway from the hall. Dexter froze, simultaneously covering her mouth again as if he though her likely to start screaming, his eyes widening as he stared at the door. Bubbles followed his gaze, and for the few moments they both watched the door suspended in motion, half-expecting someone to burst in at any moment with only a very strange scene to befall.

Then just as soon as it went on, the light shut off, engulfing them both once again in the blue glowing darkness. There was a few seconds where they both remained motionless, and Bubbles felt her extremities tingle with all the heightened alarm she'd had to endure in just a short time. This was certainly not fun at all, at least compared to the one other time she'd been to his house.

Dexter turned back to her, and he jerked back, releasing his grip at the same time as he suddenly realized that he'd been smothering her. He moved away, head bowed to avoid her eyes, and with her slight disappointment and curiosity, Bubbles sat up.

"S-s-sorry… I just had to make sure…"

"It's okay," Bubbles whispered, and she smiled. They sat in silence for a while, and Bubbles watched Dexter sit on the floor with his knees folded beneath him, his hands scratching awkwardly at the rug. She wanted him to lift his face, so that she could see him in the darkness, so that she could see what he looked like with the serene, blue light against his face. But he seemed too bashful to even look at her now, and that only made him that more interesting. It was so endearing how he was just so awkward when they were alone.

_What am I thinking?!_

Then Bubbles remembered what had happened, and she felt her spirits fall. There was still the question of how in the world he'd driven X away. Obviously, it had been Dexter who'd pulled her out of the pool… but how exactly had he evaded the robot? That was a question she needed answered, right away, because who knew if X was going to show up again? It certainly wouldn't ignore him, and she somehow knew that he wouldn't go down without attempting to protect her.

"Um… well… I need to ask you about-" she began to whisper, her words halting, because she was just too confused to pick out the right things to say. Dexter stopped her in mid-sentence.

"You need to change… I had to keep you in your own clothes… because-" he stopped abruptly, realizing what he was saying, and then he stood and quickly disappeared from the room. The door was silent as he opened it, and Bubbles barely heard him move out into the hallway, surprised when he returned five minutes later just as silently as he'd left. There was a bundle in his arms, and Bubbles stood from the floor to greet him, gratefully taking the pile of dried clothes as she once again, became aware of the fact that she was still uncomfortably wet.

"Thank you…" she said shyly, blushing. Holding the clothes against her chest. Dexter nodded stiffly, looking at her intently, his eyes very betraying to what she knew he was really thinking. That only made Bubbles feel even warmer.

"They should fit you. My sister was your size at one point."

"Your sister? You never told me you had a sister," Bubbles said, completely taken aback. How could he not have told her, and how could she not have noticed the last time she'd been there?

"I try not to give that information out freely," he said mutely, his eyes still on her, but his posture that of someone who really wanted to run away.

"Why not?" she challenged. This was certainly very strange. Dexter was suddenly acting very weird, and Bubbles didn't like it at all.

"Because she- just never mind, okay!? Just drop it… it doesn't matter," he growled, his voice a choice bit more louder and irritated than before. Bubbles closed in on herself protectively, feeling very attacked at that moment, and sad that somehow she was inadvertently angering him.

"Okay… I'm sorry… I didn't know it was that big of a deal… I'll just…"

"I'll turn around. You shouldn't go out into the hall in case you get trapped," he said quickly, turning around to face the door. Bubbles watched his back for a few moments, and watched the way he leaned his head against the door in exhaustion, his shoulders visibly tight. She wanted to say something, but didn't know what would calm him. Something was very obviously bothering him, and Bubbles was getting the hint that it was her.

"I'll just leave then… if I already made you mad at me…" Bubbles said, turning towards the window as she set the bundle of clothes down on the edge of the bed. She heard Dexter stir behind her, and he spoke in the darkness.

"You can't go out there," he said quietly, and she could tell he had turned back around. Bubbles shrugged, and refused to face him as she went towards the window. She froze, looking out into the moonlit backyard, only to be met with the view of the very same pool she'd fallen into. He'd seen her get attacked and go into the water…

"Of course I can. I can take care of myself!" Bubbles said into the glass, hesitating before she moved the pull the window open. Her hand was forced away suddenly, and she was surprised to see that Dexter had snuck up right behind her.

"No. You can't. It'll kill you." he said very bluntly. "Trust me."

"You know, you're starting to piss me off. I didn't ask you to help me!" she snapped angrily, standing on the tips of her toes in an effort to get into his face. He seemed completely unfazed.

"I watched you fall in. I wasn't going to let that thing get you out!" he was fighting back now, leaning over her in his muted fury. But they stopped fighting almost abruptly, both of them realizing that their faces were only a mere inch apart. There was another silent pause for what must have been the fifth time that night, both of them too shocked to move away, staring each other down in the eyes with fizzling out anger that was slowly changing into something else.

"I'll just… go change then…" Bubbles said finally, shyly turning away to retain the lump of clothing that had since fallen from the bed. She kneeled down, but felt her knees go weak as her entire body was suddenly overcome with an overpowering sadness, and she began to weep softly.

Bubbles couldn't understand why she felt so sad, but all the negative energy in the air, all the anger she'd seen come from Dexter, directed at her… those kinds of things had never gone down easily with her. But now it felt good to cry, something she'd wanted to do for a long time, having to deal with so much on her own and hide it from her family. Yet all she wanted was some comfort, from someone who could understand. It was a vicious cycle indeed. There was no way for her to spill the secret, and if that were true, then nobody could help her or make her feel better. Not even Dexter, because he seemed entirely uninterested. That realization only made her want to cry harder.

"If my parents hear you… they'll… ah… damnit…" Dexter said quietly, his voice trailing off into silence as he gave up the effort to quiet her. Bubbles was ignoring him, half wishing that X would come crashing through the roof, if not to break her horrible ordeal. He was so stupid. How could he be so stupid? She hated Dexter. She hated him so much. _I hate him! That stupid bastard… so mean! I HATE HIM!_

It made her want to scream, but she knew she couldn't. But Bubbles felt so tense, that she just needed some sort of release, so badly that destroying something felt totally desirable at that moment. She was so wound tight that she jerked badly went she felt a tentative hand against her shoulder.

"I'm… sorry…" Dexter said, his voice just next to her. "I'm sorry I made you cry…"

Without giving him any warning, Bubbles threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his body tightly, thinking if she held on she could squeeze the sadness away. But he froze up, completely startled at her closeness, and she could feel his heart-rate speed up almost instantly as her head pushed against his chest. All she wanted was for him to return the gesture, to just wrap his own arms around her and make her feel warm again.

"I hate you… you're so stupid…" she murmured into his shirt, soaking it with her own tears. Dexter was completely speechless, his hands gripping the carpet to avoid touching her, his gesture very evasive as Bubbles continued moving her uninjured cheek against him.

"I…I…I…" his whispered stutters were barely intelligible, some sort of lump lodged in his throat that was keeping him from stringing a comprehensive sentence together. She could almost feel him shaking, his posture slightly drawn back as if ready to fall over, but very clearly it seemed as if he was almost trying to draw himself away… _not this time buster…_

"Just hold me, you idiot! You're so stupid!"

Finally he responded, tentative at first, his hands just barely touching the backs of her shoulders. He was impossible, absolutely ridiculous… why the hell did he have to be so damn respectful… and so awkward at the same time?!

Bubbles clenched tighter onto his shirt, balling the fabric tightly in her fists, trying so hard to literally bury herself into his body. She wanted to disappear, to just die right there, because then she wouldn't have to feel so sad anymore. But she felt so light as he finally fell into her embrace, wrapping his arms fully around her as he pressed his own body against hers. Finally, it felt so good, just the warmth and the comfort, even if it meant absolutely nothing.

"I… I almost killed you… I was confused…" Bubbles hiccoughed softly into his chest, closing her eyes as the tears continued to soak her cheeks, stinging the still-open cut on the one side. But she didn't care. The pain felt good to her, while she was so unbearably miserable.

"What?" he whispered softly, his reactions so much calmer then they had been before.

"When you were sleeping… I was so scared… and I didn't know it was you… I thought you were going to hurt me…"

"I would never hurt you. I saved you… I only meant to protect you…"

"But you were so angry at me… you were so mean…"

"…I was never angry at you… I just… this is hard for me to deal with… with you here now… and you're so…"

Dexter stopped talking right then, his voice breaking hesitantly at the last few words, but Bubbles knew what he'd been about to say. _He was going to tell me I was beautiful… oh, why didn't you say it, you dummy?!_

Bubbles understood what was happening now, why she had become so taken by him. The last few months, all of it building into that one confusing emotion. She was in love with him.

_But how can I make you understand? Now… I just can't… not now… not with that thing after me…_

She knew he felt it too. That was why he was so awkward with her all the time, especially now, but she could read it in his eyes; the hungry desire to kiss her, and to be near her. But he stayed away, and she knew why he did it. Because he was afraid of her, and he didn't want to hurt her…in any way at all.

"I… just need help… but nobody can help me… I'm afraid…"

Dexter breathed in deeply, and Bubbles took her own air in, her sobs fading away into mere jumps in her breath. The tears were drying, along with her sudden sadness.

"I can help you…" he said quietly, his voice firm but hushed. Bubbles pulled away hastily, confused, because his tone had changed again. He seemed… dead serious.

"What?" she asked softly, moving back to look him in the eye. Dexter was watching her, the look on his face very stern. He _was_ serious.

"Look, you need to change… or you might catch a cold…" he said, his face changing. "And you got me all wet too. Now _I_ need to change" he smiled faintly, and Bubbles let out a choking laugh and an apology.

Reluctantly, Bubbles moved away and picked up the clothes from the ground. She began sorting through it, looking at what he'd brought her; a long-sleeved zip pullover that was white with black sleeves, and just a pair of regular denim jeans. They looked suitable enough, and Bubbles began folding out the creases against the floor. It was merely her attempt to be pre-occupied, but what she was really thinking about, was Dexter, and just how warm he'd been.

"I'll give you some time," Dexter said quietly, standing from the ground and leaving the room quickly, the door shutting quietly behind him. Bubbles watched the door for a while, blinking with her eyes still wet and face still soggy. What had just happened between them… had been so strange, but so incredibly romantic at the same time. It was entirely too complicated for her to explain even to herself, but she knew that in those few words they'd exchanged, in those few moments of closeness, certain barriers had been torn down that could never be rebuilt again.

Sighing, Bubbles turned and peeled off the damp clothing, her body still lingering with the sticky remnants of chlorine-riddle water. She sighed in annoyance, balling the wet clothes and placing them in a pile to the side. The new clothes fit almost perfectly, and she was admiring herself in a mirror against the wall when Dexter came back into the room after a quick knock on the door.

"Are they okay?" he asked, freshly changed into a different night shirt that was tighter against his frame. For a second she wondered where he'd gotten it from, and she was eyeing studiously, before realizing that she really wasn't admiring the shirt at all.

"They're perfect," Bubbles said, trying hard not to stare. She busied herself with perusing all the books on the shelf, noting that more than half of the book titles she couldn't understand. "Where is your sister, anyway… if you don't mind me asking?"

Dexter walked in, moving towards her hesitantly, as if he was nervous about something. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

"Erm- training… at the hospital…"

"A doctor?" Bubbles said, running her finger along the spine of a book that she could actually understand. She turned as Dexter moved even close to her, his eyes very cautious. It was bothering him that she was looking at the books. That was odd.

"No. She's finishing up her residency at Townsville General. She wants to be a nurse… which is completely surprising to me…" he said smirking, but there was something in his tone that was once again very odd.

"How so?" Bubbles said, turning away from the bookshelf, cocking her head sideways curiously as she noticed Dexter suddenly drop his shoulders in mysterious relief.

"Because, she'd never seemed to be very bright," he said lightly, turning and moving quickly back to his desk. Bubbles couldn't see what he was doing, but she definitely knew that he was picking something off the floor. With a loud snap, he quickly dropped something into one of the drawers and closed it quickly, trying to be sneaky about it. Then Bubbles remembered…

_The weapon!_

"Um… can I ask you something?" Bubbles asked cautiously, taking a step forward. "How exactly did you get past X?"

Dexter turned and face her, leaning back against the edge of his desk, his hands gripping tightly to the wood.

"X?"

"Oh… I mean…" Bubbles stopped herself, realizing he had no clue as to what she was referring to. That name was something she'd personally given it, so he wouldn't know what she meant. "The robot… I mean… how did you get around it and pull me out of your pool?"

"Oh _that_… Erm- I… well it kind of left…"

"You're lying," Bubbles said, taking care to make her voice sultry and accusing, just to get the truth out of him, all while taking a step closer.

"I'm not lying."

"Then why do you look so nervous? How did you get past the robot… and further more… what was that thing you just put away?"

"It was nothing… Just a text book," Dexter was becoming very alarmed, she could tell by his voice, by his mere body language that he was trying to hide something.

"I'm not that stupid. You were holding a weapon."

He suddenly let out a squealing breath of shock that was completely incriminating, doubly over as if choking on his own air. _Guilty as charged…_

"You know it scares me to think that you have access to a weapon… one that could scare that thing away…"

"Look… it was just a… uh… vacuum cleaner… yeah, one of those tiny ones that you use to pick up all the dust-"

"Do you think I'm stupid? You can't even lie well. You really are an idiot."

He stopped talking, and blinked at her. His stare offended and betrayed. But yet, it had been he who'd gotten himself caught, not her.

"It's complicated."

"How?"

"Just- forget it… that robot's gone… and you're safe now…"

Those words had almost made her feel better, but that was before Bubbles remembered X could find her at any time, at any place, and it certainly wasn't dead. It had in fact attacked her in her own home… it would only be assumed that it could do the same thing here, in someone else's home. She wasn't safe at all. Even though she desperately wanted to believe him, she couldn't. In fact, she almost forgot all about Dexter's strange, questionable weapon and behavior concerning it now that her mind was back on X.

"I'm not really safe… it'll find me…" Bubbles said, her eyes falling. She began fumbling her hands together in front of her, wrapping her fingers tightly around one another in a nervous, twitchy fashion.

"No, you're safer than you think," Dexter said, and he moved away from the desk and walked closer to her, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her face. Bubbles turned away, blushing in her embarrassing state of depression, just trying to keep him from seeing her face in that fashion. It wasn't flattering at all, and she almost felt annoyed that he wanted to look at her.

"You don't understand… I know you want to help me… but you just can't… my sisters can't even help me. It will kill me and everyone who gets in the way," Bubbles turned and looked at him suddenly, her eyes ablaze with the rage that had been allowed to fester deep within her. She wanted it dead. She wanted it to all be over. Dexter seemed completely unconvinced.

"Even you…" she finished sadly, looking hard and deep into the darkness of his eyes in the strange humming light. She almost thought he was smiling.

"I think…" he started, but he trailed off, looking away, his face registering the fact that he was deeply in thought, almost considering something. It was the face Blossom always wore when she was deciding on the answer to a very serious question. "I think you'll find that I can do more for you than you think…" he trailed off, and despite the fact that the words were encouraging, while pointless, Dexter almost looked sad.

"I… I don't think you can… Bubbles responded, shaking her head slowly, her eyes watering up again with another army of tears. She tried to blink them away, but it was hard, considering the way he was looking at her; his face was so, unbelievably sincere.

Dexter sighed, closing his eyes, taking in a huge heavy breath as if facing the prospect of a great, momentous challenge. He looked back at her, eyes strangely fixed in a trance, locked onto Bubbles's face, who was looking at him expectantly, unsure.

"I need to show you something…"

Dexter turned, and lifted his hand to the book case, where he wrapped his fingers around a large, inconspicuous volume in the dark, and pulled hard.

__


	24. Chapter TwentyThree

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 23

__

Blossom… wake up…

There!

A voice, so close… if she could just reach it… pull all her strength together… swim past the blur and sleep that kept her in a state of delirious slumber. It was a struggle, wading through the sea of endless pain and confusion, hands outstretched to that beckoning voice, that pure sound… of fatherly kindness…

"Wake up Blossom…"

A hand on her face… she could feel the touch… the warmth… and it was becoming easier to move now. She could feel, and hear, and soon the light passed through the thin covering of her eye lids, the sounds of voices moving through her ears, and the touch of cool air against her flushed skin. Her senses flashed back on like the sudden booting up of a program, and finally a groan escaped her lips.

"Blossom… you can wake up now… it's all over…"

"What?" she mumbled incoherently, her eyes squinting open against the sudden light of the afternoon. How much time had passed since she'd lost consciousness was uncertain, but she suspected it had only been a few hours, just judging by the position of the sun now glimmering through the window.

"You just got winded is all… you're fine." said the voice, the one that Blossom finally registered as belonging to the professor, who was standing over her, smiling warmly.

"I feel like hell…" she mumbled, trying to push her body up from the hospital bed she was lying on. Blossom looked around. The room she was in was identical to Buttercup's, except that the only occupants now were her and the professor.

The professor frowned, and took a seat at the side of the bed, brushing the clumps of hair out of Blossom's eyes.

"Well, you had quite a fall there. You broke the chair…"

Blossom whimpered suddenly as her head split open with the most painful, pulsing headache she'd ever experienced. Instinctively she grabbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut as the pounding, acid pain stung at all the nerves in her body. Her head spun with the dizzying thunder, and it felt like someone had just cleaved an open gash through her skull with an axe.

"Are you okay?" the professor asked suddenly, running a hand along the side of her head. His touch only made the pain worse, and she flung her head away in protest with a moan, only to make the pain doubly worse by jostling the brain inside her head. This only made the professor even more alarmed with her.

"I… I'm fine. I just have an amazing headache…" she whispered, the sound and feel of her voice like nails on a chalkboard to her already shrieking ears.

"I thought you would…" the professor said calmly, leaning over to a table beside the bed, and Blossom heard the unmistakable jangle of pills spilling around inside a bottle. She scowled, but instantly regretted making the change in the muscles of her face, for the pain only worsened.

"You know that stuff never works for me…" she said harshly, opening her eyes to see the professor unscrew the cap, and watched as two tiny brown capsules fell into his palm.

"Well, this isn't exactly your average headache. Maybe it'll work this time…" he said matter-of-factly, grabbing the small paper cup of water next to him. His tone was that of someone who was very certain of their intuition. Yet Blossom still doubted she would find any relief from medication, for those kinds of things had never had any effect whatsoever on her and her sisters.

"What do you mean… and how did you know I would have a headache?"

The professor shrugged, and handed her the paper cup and the two pills. Blossom took them uncertainly, knowing it was useless, but not wanting to seem ungrateful either.

"Just a small hunch I guess. Considering what happened."

"Well, what about _what happened_?" Blossom asked, throwing the two capsules into her mouth, cringing at the creamy taste of the capsule's shells. She took a swig of the water and downed them both at the same time, blinking her eyes towards the ceiling to let gravity help them down.

"I think I know what happened… with your sister…"

The professor started, turning his face to the window while his expression became pure with concentration. It was clearly something he'd been dwelling on for a long time, Blossom could tell by the scrutinizing slant of his brow.

"What about her?" Blossom asked, carefully taking the last bits of water from the cup, suddenly realizing that she was incredibly thirsty.

"She's telekinetic."

But Blossom nearly lost all the water as she choked, her ears and still throbbing head not able to comprehend what she'd just heard. She coughed, her throat now scratchy as a result of the undesired reflex, and the professor slapped her hard in the back to aid her recovery. Her eyes turned to him in disbelief.

"W-What?!" she spluttered, running her arm across her mouth to wipe her face. The professor returned her crazed stare with one of utter confidence.

"You may not realize it," and he stood from his seat on the bed, and walked over to the window, the drapes billowing softly in the light breeze that escaped into the room. "But I've been watching her for a while. I ran through all of the old files, looking for some sort of evidence that would lead to my hypothesis… that would prove my theory was correct…" he continued, leaning against the window frame as he watched the world below go by.

"And what did you find?"

The professor chuckled, and turned around to face Blossom, who was sitting more comfortably on the bed, her headache seemingly forgotten.

"Well, I wasn't finding anything for the longest time… and I almost lost hope, until I ran across a certain blood-stained lab sheet… one from when you three were about eight years old…"

Blossom stared at him for a while, expecting him to explain further as to what he was talking about, but for some reason she was drawing a complete blank. The professor looked at her expectantly as if she was supposed to know something he was getting at… but she just couldn't remember anything…

"Wait… What?" she asked half-heartedly, tensing as her head gave a particularly nasty throb.

The professor walked back to the bed and sat again, where he looked Blossom straight in the eye.

"I'm surprised you don't remember, since you were there… why exactly Buttercup is afraid of hospital needles."

Blossom gasped, covering her mouth as the memory suddenly resurfaced like a submarine reemerging from the bottom of the sea. She had forgotten, for the event had been so surreal and traumatizing, her brain had instinctively tucked it away.

"I… I do remember that now… but what does that have to do with it?" she said shakily, her awareness slowly returning to the pain of her forehead, making her weak and sleepy.

"Don't you remember always wondering _why_ the containers of your blood exploded?"

"I… I suppose, but I never really gave it a second thought… I was just too shook up to really care…"

The professor lifted his finger up to make a point, and he smiled calmly to emphasize the fact that he knew full well what he was talking about. It was a face Blossom had come to hate, because it was a parental, condescending face he always made to tell them how things were.

"I didn't think too much of it either, but after everything that has been going on, I'm now thinking that we should have paid more attention to what really happened at the time."

Blossom thought hard, trying to recall the event as clearly as possible. It was difficult, to think through her pain and logged memory, but she struggled to let every detail that she could remember shine through the murky blackness of her muddled thoughts.

They had been eight years old, Blossom remembered that much. She also remembered that it had been a cold, rainy Sunday afternoon, the sound of thunder creating a deep thrum as it soaked through the thick walls of the professor's laboratory. They'd all been down there, huddled together against the booming growls of the weather outside, but mostly because it was the day that the professor did his monthly checkup for them, just to make sure that they were growing up healthy and perfectly normal.

He always took blood tests, Blossom remembered that, and he always checked their reflexes, and most importantly their eyes and throats. Blossom never had a problem with the tests, and for the most part, neither did Buttercup or Bubbles. But on that one day in particular, Buttercup decided to make a huge fuss.

It had to have been some sort of stage she was going through at the time. She was always moody, grouchy and defiant, more so than her usual behavior. It was like she was going through the emotional stages of teenage development much too early, because she had the tendency to swing her moods as easily as swinging a baseball bat. On this day in particular, Buttercup had absolutely no interest in letting the professor poke her with needles, but Blossom suspected there was reason for that more deep than just the fact that she was being a royal bitch.

Her screams had been unbelievable. She kicked and punched and fought hard with all her might, and did a good job at keeping the professor at bay. Blossom and Bubbles had ended up having to hold her down against the lab table, and she'd put up an amazing fight. Blossom suspected that Buttercup was hurt, for her arm was just slightly bruised, but why that had been cause for Buttercup to act so irrationally was anyone's guess. There was hardly a time when all the three of them had less than three bruises somewhere on their bodies, so they were used to it.

She'd kicked, and screamed, and had even resorted to biting Blossom on the arm, but the professor had managed to get close enough to stick the needle into her elbow, his patience quickly wearing thin as his brow furrowed with anxiety. Buttercup had gotten so mad, she'd started screaming like never before. Not Sonic Scream powerful, but powerful enough.

And that was when it happened. Something strange. There'd been a quick rumble, and the rest of the family had just dismissed it as thunder, powerful enough to shake the very walls and floor of the lab. But they all knew that thunder wasn't powerful enough to make the blood-filled bags on the counter explode, and that's when Buttercup had stopped screaming.

Needless to say, blood had been everywhere. On the walls, the floor, and it was covering all of them in a thick, dripping mess. They'd all frozen for a good few moments, not exactly sure how to react to what had just happened, thunder rumbling away above them. It was after this that they all realized, in a stupor, that they were covered in blood. Blossom had started trembling, Bubbles had started sobbing, and the professor had moved about the room like a ghost, looking desperately for the one clean towel in the room. They were all covered in blood, and they could taste it, and they could feel the heat going cold against their skin. It was a substance nobody ever wanted to be covered in, especially to have it dumped like a shower hose.

And Buttercup had just sat at that lab table, the crimson substance dripping from strands of her hair, sliding down her face and oozing into the corner's of her mouth. Her eyes had been open, and she'd stared blankly at the wall, her arm raised up, the broken end of a needle lodged deeply into her skin. Blossom saw it first, and grabbed her sister's shaking arm to steady it, her slick fingers sliding against the surface of the needle, fumbling for a grip, but only succeeding in making it worse. The needle went deeper, and Buttercup started flipping out again, this time shrieking with horror as she'd tried to push Blossom away from her, her own hands desperate to get the foreign piece of metal out of her body, the piece of metal that seemed to slowly be sinking deeper and deeper beneath her flesh. Her scrabbling hands, wet with blood, had been trying pointlessly to pull the needle free when the professor had finally come back to his senses and rushed to help with a pair of tweezers.

And that was the story of why Buttercup had created this deep fear of needles. At the time, that was all Blossom had ever labeled the memory as, but thinking about it now, she couldn't help but wonder about how it had all happened. It was just like the incident with the glass jar. She'd been angry, and things around her had exploded… something was starting to make sense, to make what little sense it could. Perhaps way back then, when they'd been so young, that heightened state of alarm had caused a reaction in Buttercup, just as her anger had in the professor's classroom.

But Blossom couldn't remember any other time where a similar event had happened. Nothing between those two key events fit into the puzzle to give any sort of evidence to the professor's guess. So then, why now, was everything suddenly falling apart?

"Professor… if that's true… why now? Why did it wait so long to happen?" Blossom asked softly, trying hard to remember anything in the past, anything at all that seemed remotely like the power the professor suspected she now had. Nothing at all was coming to mind… except… things that had been happening since her downward spiral into depression… leading to…

"The trauma Blossom… it was all building in her state of intense emotion. To her, she just thought that her energy was leaving her… when really it was the opposite. It was all building, her anger and sadness fueling the power… and I think what we saw this morning was just the culmination of her release. Her attempt at hurting herself had been irrational, and she knew it at the time. I don't think she expected to do it, and I don't even think she wanted to do it, and that trauma, that intense fear and guilt just gave this ability more leeway to explode."

"And Bubbles too… her fear for Bubbles. She was freaking out about her being gone-"

"I think _that_ mixed with everything that has been happening to her, and the fact that she didn't know any way to release this building energy, just made it that more painful and shocking… when she transferred it to you."

Blossom looked down and breathed deeply, her eyes closed against the still throbbing pain at her temples. _Telekinesis_… that was such a strong word. Who knew what sort of repercussions it could have on their family? And what about when Buttercup had grabbed her. It had felt so, strangely real, but agonizing at the same time, like someone had crammed her head into a vice with only the intent of sucking her dry.

__

Blossom couldn't think just then. She was just too tired, she was too tired to put the pieces together at what had really happened between her and her sister just hours before. She was too tired and drained to really notice that Buttercup had probably done a lot more than just zap her with about a million bolts of telekinetic energy. And for some reason the mere presence of the professor at that moment was just plain getting on her nerves.

"You look tired, honey," the professor said calmly, his brilliant perception miraculously on cue with Blossom's reality. It was almost like he was reading her mind-

_Reading my mind…_

Blossom froze for a second, her hand in mid air where it hovered just over her forehead. She'd just had a revelation… a realization as to what exactly had happened to her, and it brought her no sort of comfort.

_She knows…_

Blossom had dreamed about it. Somehow she knew, she just knew that Buttercup had somehow found out about Him. Blossom couldn't explain to herself how exactly she knew this to be the truth…. But she could just feel the remnants of her sisters presence in her thoughts, in her brain, poking at every piece of memory and thought. It had to be the truth.

"Professor, I think that-" Blossom started to say, but she was instantly shut quiet by the professor shaking his head quickly.

"Not now honey… I think you need some rest… Try to… put your thoughts back in order."

And there was a flicker of movement from his eye… a brief spasm of the eyelids… a quick reflex… a… _did he just wink at me?_

Blossom said nothing, but only watched as the professor stood from his seat and walked to the doorway that led out into the hall. He gave Blossom one last fleeting glance and smiled.

"I'm going to check on Cup. With luck they'll release her tonight."

And that was the last thing he said before he walked from the room.

Blossom was left alone, with only her own pathetic thoughts to linger on. Buttercup knew about Him. She knew about everything, about all the times he'd spent with her, about all the times Blossom had tried pointlessly to cover everything up. Buttercup knew, and she was going to kill her.

_But maybe she doesn't know… maybe I'm just working myself up over nothing… maybe she didn't really just break into my secrets… but…_

Who was she kidding? Blossom couldn't lie to herself, not when she was somehow so dead sure that Buttercup had just read her mind. Did the professor know too? Had his suggestion to her been a much deeper statement than it sounded on the surface?

_You're not going to know until Buttercup flails you alive…_

Blossom _wouldn't_ know until Buttercup said anything, _if_ she said anything at all. Blossom certainly wasn't going to bring it up, so it was pointless to worry about until she knew for sure… until Buttercup decided to confront her on it.

Sighing, Blossom laid back down against the pillow and closed her eyes, head still throbbing with uncomfortable strokes of pain.

Despite the distraction she fell quickly into slumber, and while she slept, Him's ethereal, opaque form hovered close to her, his face a mischievous glowing grin. For some reason, nobody outside the room ever noticed.


	25. Chapter TwentyFour

****

There hasn't been an update in a while, and I'll tell you why. I've been away on vacation since the beginning of July, and just finally managed to get back home and back to the computer. There isn't any solid action yet, but in the next chapter, all will be explained as to how the robot got in the hands of Mojo, and what Dexter intends to do to help her. Action to come soon, so just please be patient.

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 24

At first, everything was dark, the downward spiral of stairs leading to nothing but empty blackness. Bubbles had no idea what she was looking at, but for some reason knew it definitely wasn't a wine cellar.

Dexter had pulled the book from his shelf, hid hands gripping tightly to the frayed leather edges of the cover, pulling out and down as a metallic _thwack_ of gears echoed into the still night air. Bubbles initially thought that he was just showing her something inside that book, but she soon realized that was not the case, right about the time the bookcase started sliding on the wall.

Bubbles jumped backwards, while Dexter stayed perfectly calm, her own thoughts running through all of the most horrible possibilities, all of them including monsters coming out from that gaping hole in his wall… a gaping hole… no, it was a doorway… I giant freaking passage hidden behind his bookshelf. Wherever it led, she had no idea.

The bookshelf grinded to a halt just near the desk, the lingering clanks or moving machinery settling against the quiet darkness. For a beat, they were both paused, and Bubbles half expected to see a light shine on from underneath Dexter's door. But one never came. _How did they not hear that?!_

Dexter moved first, and Bubbles could tell he was watching her, trying to read a reaction from her face, which was molded into nothing but still disbelief. What was she supposed to be seeing? What exactly was down there that had to be hidden by a bookshelf filled with some sort of machinery? And what in the hell did he expect her to say?

"Well, are you coming?" Dexter said finally, turning to face Bubbles, who was still quite frozen on the carpet. She half expected her voice not to work at all. First, she was chased by X through a neighborhood, crashed into a pool, nearly drowned, woke up in some strangers house who she thought was going to kill her, and then the stranger turned out to be Dexter. What. Were. The. Odds. And not to mention, suddenly she was facing a secret cavern in the middle of his bedroom.

"Um…. Err… coming where?" Bubbles asked tentatively, her voice a thin squeak that was reminiscent of her younger years.. She shifted her eyes onto his face, but he looked relatively amused at her reaction.

"To my lab of course. You're the only person I've decided to actually _show_-"

"You're WHAT?!" she squealed, louder than she should have, and Dexter nearly had a fit. He drove his pointer finger so hard into his pursed lips that she thought he was purposely trying to hurt himself. They both listened, and soon the only sound that came in response, was the deep, guttering grunt of someone in another room. The sound electrified Bubbles into a near fit of terror, jerking her just one step shy of where Dexter was standing. He only relaxed.

"My dad snores…" he said casually, before eyeing her strangely as she wore the most dumbfounded expression imaginable.

"I'm not going down there…"

"Look, it'll be safer down there, anyway. If…. Er- X, or, whatever, is still wandering around out there somewhere, he won't be able to find you if you just go down there with me…"

"You want me to walk down into a deep, dark, isolated crevice with you… that nobody else knows about-"

"Oh, for God's sake, what the hell do you think I'm going to do?" he said, his voice very exasperated as he rolled his eyes, but there was a touch of disbelieved humor in his tone. Bubbles only stared at him, her expression very doe-eyed, altogether mistrusting, but Dexter was only losing his patience with her.

"Look, are you going to trust me or not? You act like you just met me yesterday-"

"Maybe I just met you today…"

He blinked at her a few times, before closing his eyes. That's when Bubbles noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses.

_Why would I notice something so irrelevant?_

"Look, let me explain this to you later, because we're kind of on a time limit," Dexter said, his voice quiet but hurried. Bubbles forgot her feelings of mistrust, but blushed a little at the implications of what she nearly feared. She knew he wasn't like that. He was too stupid for that.

"What do you mean a time limit?" she questioned, glancing outside the window, as the subject of _limit_ suddenly put her on edge.

"The electric jolt I gave that robot will only conk out its navigation and radar systems for about ten more minutes… we need to make sure we're down here when that happens-"

"AHA! You did have a gun!"

Dexter stopped short and stared at her lamely. Her finger was poking very persistently at his chest.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Then you lied to me!" Bubbles said fiercely, grinding her finger even harder into his breastbone, but hardly getting more than a flinch.

"Look, can we discuss this later, because- OHH, you knew I was lying anyway," he responded even fiercer, his voice just under a hiss. "Do you want my help or not, or would you rather get killed?!"

Bubbles stopped poking very abruptly, and once again gave him a very watery stare. His own expression softened, but there was still a twitch of urgency on his brow.

"I do want your help."

"Then would it help if I turned on the light?" he said quickly, before spinning around to the open doorway in the wall. He paused just short of the sheet of blackness, and Bubbles could just barely make out his silhouette as the extending darkness tugged at the remnants of his visibility. He was punching his fingers onto something resting on the wall, and Bubbles could barely make out the quick blips of sound as something reacted to his touch.

Bubbles drew back as the darkness suddenly erupted into light, a trail of shining orbs leading all the way down, even deeper than she'd imagined before. So deep, it almost seemed as if the stairways led… below ground.

"Well… come on then…"

"And where exactly am I going?" Bubbles said quietly, her eyes moving to Dexter who was looking at her very sincerely, his eyes patient as he watched her.

"It's a laboratory. Down there you can't be found. The robot's radars will never be able to penetrate the walls of the lab. I made sure of that a long time ago."

Bubbles took one last heavy breath and walked to Dexter, who turned and started downwards towards what must have been the end. Bubbles walked carefully down the stairs, not wanting to fall and bring him down with her. The steps were intensely steep, and she was close to feeling like she was going completely vertical. The walls around the stairs were all metal, many, many sheets of it put together by black bolts, interspaced with buzzing lights that led the way down. Some of the lights were flickering, popping as they died away into darkness, creating an eerie sense of foreboding and mystery in the atmosphere. She'd always known that he was hiding something, and this little incident just solidified that thought.

Of course, she hadn't intended for her secret to be _quite_ this large.

But something about this whole thing bugged her to no end. This whole encounter was just too strange. She'd been to his house so many times before… and had even been in his room once or twice. Never had she found anything out of the ordinary, and never had she suspected something like this. How could this have been kept a secret for so long? Bubbles assumed he kept this hidden… but that would have to mean that he was quite a bit more intelligent than she'd previously thought.

But what kind of intelligence was it? All of this machinery and intrigue… seemed much to reminiscent of some sort of mad scientist bent on world domination… kind of like Mojo. Did she really know Dexter as well as she thought she did? She certainly saw him in a completely different light now, almost as if he was a completely different boy. Was he a friend… or was he an enemy? Was he really just leading her down to her doom, in league with Mojo himself? Worst of all, did he intend to hurt her? Certainly leading her down into a deep dark area where nobody would suspect a thing, and the fact that nobody knew where she was, made for the perfect opportunity to do something dastardly. But there was something else, maybe in his mannerisms, and the way he spoke to her, that just seemed too much of the polar opposite of Mojo. And after all… he had saved her in the pool, and not to mention the way he always looked at her, and watched her. Certainly not from someone who wanted to do her in.

Bubbles kept watching him as they moved downwards, when she wasn't watching her step of course. Maybe it was an aura… or just some sixth sense, or maybe her acute perception of danger, but something was telling her she could trust him, and she was all right with that.

"What exactly do you mean, you made sure of it a long time ago? Made sure of what?" Bubbles asked quietly, her voice jumping as she nearly fell. She reached out with her hand and caught his shoulder, and he turned just slightly to steady her, his hand catching her waist. They both blushed, but neither dwelled on it for too long, and soon Dexter began speaking.

"The robot uses a radar to find you, your own genetic pattern burned into its processor so that it can easily recognize you or find you. The radar finds your genetic pattern, and only yours, designed to attach to only one person, and whether or not that attachment results in death is up to the user-"

Dexter stopped, and Bubbles stumbled into his back, surprised at the sudden leveling of ground. She peeked around him, breathing in disbelief as they both faced yet another large door, this one made of solid steel that glinted in the harsh light, its edges dappled in a pattern of yellow and black lines. Dexter turned to another key-pad mechanism to their right, and pressed his hand against what had looked like a small video screen. There was a strange hum as a small string of light passed over his palm, and then a faint, female voice spoke from within the machine itself.

_Welcome back to your lab, Dexter…_

In another time, Bubbles would have found this all very amusing, but there was just something about this that wasn't making her laugh. For just a split second Bubbles swore she was dreaming, that there was no way this could be real… there was no way that her friend had this enormous secret just locked away below his house…

But when Bubbles felt his touch on her hand, she knew this had to be real, with the light feel of his touch against her skin. The door had opened, and it must have been quiet and fast, for Bubbles hadn't even noticed or heard a sound. She just stared ahead of her, hardly able to comprehend the magnitude and the size of the room before her. When he'd said it was a lab, she'd just thought he meant a small little closet underground. But this- this was an entire town.

Dexter was pulling her through, speaking to her, but a word was hardly getting in. The space was enormous, so big that Bubbles couldn't even see the other three walls. The ceiling, what must have been… five, maybe six stories above her, was covered completely with the same sheets of metal she'd seen going down, but the lights were hanging discs, with smaller orb lights covering the spaces between them. The floors, looked like nothing more than plain ceramic tiles, but upon closer inspection, she found them to be covered in what must have been a thin layer of Plexiglas.

At least those were parts of the floor she could see. Just about every inch of space was occupied by some sort of machine, all of them working and humming, colored lights flashing at perfectly spaced intervals of rest. They were lined in rows, packed together like the blocks of a city street, with tiled roads that ran between them.

To her left she saw what looked like a garden, a closed case filled to the brim with lush green plants bursting with the colors of their blooms, some of them too big and beautiful to even seem natural. To the right she saw shelves and shelves of vials and glowing fluids, perched just above counters and counters of space, littered with instruments and smaller machines. Just far off in the distance she saw a large cylinder stretching up towards the ceiling, widening out as it got closer to the top; a telescope. Standing firm just in front of what looked like a giant glass window… more rooms beyond? How was this real? How in the world did nobody know this was here? And where did he got the electricity to power such a monstrosity?

"The professor-er, my dad, would love it here…" Bubbles said quietly, and she knew Dexter heard, because he turned to her and gave her a lopsided, rather shy smile.

"In 45 seconds both of the doors are going to close, inside, the robot's radar movements will never be able to catch wind of you. I made sure these walls were impenetrable to the snooping eye, so the scanners, mounted inside the optical units, are never going to-"

Something snapped, and Bubbles very quickly let go of his hand.

"Wait a minute. How do you know so much about this robot?"

It was true. His explanations seemed to be a bit too wordy coming from a casual bystander. All her former suspicions popped up once again into her brain, running circles around her feelings of security with him. He spoke as if it was nothing more than a simple current event from the news.

Dexter didn't answer her, but paused for a beat, his back to her, before walking quickly away from her without a second glance. He moved foreword and to the left, to a square of randomly placed desks and counters of machinery, complementing a large video screen that must have been as big as the entire side of her house. He rummaged about for a while, until finally the screen sparked to life, a jagged, jittering yellow line moving across the screen like the readings of electrical impulses.

_"Is it a little early for you to be awake?"_

"Nah, it's winter break anyway, who needs sleep when there's lots of work to be done?"

He was talking to the computer. This was ridiculous. And to make matters worse it was talking back. All in all, Bubbles was losing her patience, mostly because Dexter had yet to answer her question.

"Dexter, how do you know so much about this robot?!"

He still didn't respond, but was now facing her, his head still down, going through a drawer at the side of on of the tables. Bubbles moved forward, noting his very strained expression and methods of avoidance as he continued to rummage, taking out large scraps of paper and thick notebooks which he set down loudly onto the table. She moved past a large shelf, larger than the others, and moved right up to him, angry.

"Dexter."

He paused, his head down, but his eyes inched up to meet her own.

"How is it you know so much about…X… you talk as if you-"

"As if I made it?

"Yeah, I guess-"

"Because I did."

Bubbles froze.

Silence.

Bubbles didn't know what made her turn around, maybe it was Dexter's shift in expression, his eyes moving behind her, but as soon as her eyes faced the other direction, she stopped dead. She was staring into the eyes of X, and it was staring back.


End file.
